Here and There
by HollyShadow88
Summary: Abigail is constantly seeking adventure, but what Neverland has to offer is much more than she ever would have expected. Part one takes place in Neverland, part two in Storybrooke.
1. Chapter 1

Neverland – Part One

Chapter One: "Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning." J. M. Barrie, _Peter Pan_

As she guided her small boat across the harbor's clear waters, Abigail could not help but feel amused at the turn of events her life had experienced that led her here.

The country truly was a beautiful one. Though a relatively small island, it appeared enormous, the great height of the mountains coasting its horizon giving it a depth it would have been missing otherwise. It was alive with all of the traditional creatures to be seen in such a tropical environment, colorful birds and fish with fins that sparkled in the sunlight, but there were other, more unusual beasts as well. As she deftly guided her ship towards the shore, she noticed the shimmering silver of long hair and bright fins as a mermaid, curious as to what this bizarre intruder upon her territory might be, dared to come close enough to investigate. She watched as the being darted away almost as quickly as she arrived; apparently her boldness ventured only so far. Abby's attention was suddenly diverted by the sounds of someone yelling, causing her to reach for the elegant dagger at her waist reflexively. The first call was soon answered by various others, and she swore she saw a brighter flash of green than those of the birds gliding above skirt through the approaching forest's edges. She could not know for sure what it was, but her inclinations seldom ever steered her wrong, and she possessed a general idea of what the country promised. The spectacle increased her anxiousness to reach her destination, her curiosity demanding satisfaction.

Refocusing her attention on the shoreline, she searched for an inconspicuous spot to land. Much of the area had been denied access by the various jutting rocks that threatened any vessel that dared try its unwelcome position. It was here that other mermaids roosted themselves, secure in the knowledge that any would be mad to try mooring in such a setting. Fortunately, 'mad' had been a rather frequent adjective used by those in describing Abby, and she smoothly sent her craft in the rocks' direction. Hers was a small boat, after all, and she had not left without ensuring it had received the appropriate protections.

With only a small amount of difficulty (mostly from the resting mermaids, who were less than thrilled to discover that their sanctuary was unfit to keep out her meager craft), she landed, finding an unnoticed spot to discreetly tuck away her ship before climbing onto land. Her stance wobbled slightly as she readjusted to the solidity of land, and soon she was off without any particular direction in mind, content merely to explore this new, fascinating country.

She had heard much of Neverland over the course of her various adventures of the last year. Tales of what lay there – the pirates with their impressive bounty; savage, almost beastlike Indians; and a pompous, arrogant little boy with his ragtag band of ageless orphans – had teased her for some time, but it was only recently that she had been able to coerce the knowledge of how to find such a place from a former pirate of the country. Now that she was here, she was uncertain of her next plan of action – each place she had visited had had its purpose, even if it had not been obvious at first. There was always someone to challenge, some giant deserving to be brought down, and she supposed it would not prove to be any different here. It would simply be a matter of finding it.

Her first inclination was to find this boy wonder, Peter Pan, and discover what the fuss was all about. She had heard various tales of his many misadventures and was forced to admit that observing him had been her real purpose for coming. He sounded condescendingly clever, completely indifferent to what others thought of him, and young enough to rashly do whatever he pleased, damn be the consequences. As strange as it was, she felt a connection to this boy she had yet to meet simply because they both sounded so completely and greatly alike. It was an uncanny puzzle she was determined to piece together.

But now that she was here, her infamous brashness seemed to falter. What was a six and twenty year old woman doing in searching out a ten-year-old boy? What did she honestly hope to accomplish here? Each of her previous adventures had had at least one understandable reason behind it: prove her worth, gain the prize, destroy the beast. Was she honestly so desperate for a task that she had simply come to spy on some terrible brat? It was this question that had altered her course; Pan could wait. It wasn't as if he, or she now that she had arrived, were getting any older. She would find a way to study him while busying herself with some more meaningful task.

The most obvious course of action was to seek out either the natives or pirates and investigate what they were up to. Both groups held promise; she'd never encountered savage Indians before, and pirates were simply _fascinating._ She'd met some once while helping one of the various towns seeking the Seventh Warrior's aid – nasty brutes, the lot of them, without an ounce of morality between them. They had tried to interfere for their own monetary gain and the result was their defeat at her wits' hands. She could understand their position, but in the end it was highly satisfying being the means of their demise.

She strolled along the sand, hands casually in her breeches' pockets as she instinctively scanned her surroundings for any sign of ambush. As interesting as pirates were, she could not return to the mainland after this first trip without guilt if she did not have some sort of encounter with these Neverland Indians she had heard so much about. She sincerely loved a good challenge, and the unknown prospect of what those peoples could do tugged at her initiative. Besides, who was to say she could not encounter both groups? It was a relatively small island, in comparison the land she had covered before; she would look in on the natives first, then make her way to the pirates from there. Certainly Pan would reveal himself somewhere along the way.

Satisfied with her decision, she turned away from the water's edge, intent upon the forest to her left. She would begin by tracking them – no matter how practiced they might be at concealing themselves, Abby knew she could uncover their whereabouts. A rather large family of various aged humans was certain to leave _some _sign of passage in a busy wood, no matter how careful they were. It was merely a matter of finding their flaw, just as it was for any other prey. Once that was discovered, her task very nearly completed itself.

As she entered the woods, the first thing she could not help but notice was the almost complete lack of noise. Most forested areas were brimming with action, even in the dead of night; not even the sound of a sleeping butterfly could be heard here. She was instantly suspicious, her guard rising as she sought out the silence's source. It quickly came in the appearance of five large, disgusting looking men, each wielding a rather impressive sword and lacking various appendages. So much for avoiding the pirates.

"Wot's yer bus'ness 'ere, wench?" the center man, obviously the leader, demanded. Abby's hands rested on her hips in apparent exasperation as she replied.

"I _intended_ to pass through this wood, if you insist upon knowing," she smoothly replied, no hint of fear in her irritated tone. The pirates remained mostly unfazed by her words, though the one on the far right (clearly the youngest of them) tightened his grip ever so slightly. She decided he would do nicely.

The lead pirate shook his ragged head, a grin coming to his filthy face. "Imma 'fraid that taint ta be so, miss," he said with a smirk that was echoed by his fellows. "Ye see, we've bin give'n orders ta keep 'old o' any that passers by this 'ere wood. And ye've bin trespassin'."

"I would _hardly _consider taking one step into an open wood as, er, 'trespassin,'" she stated, eying each of them individually. Her hand automatically went to her belt's buckle, as if the source of her power came from that simple accessory. In a way, it did, but far less so that she was willing to let on. She continued casually, "If, however, your only objection is my presence here, allow me to save you the trouble of a messy disagreement by removing myself from the premises immediately."

Her flowery words confused him, but he did not allow them to alter his purpose even slightly. "It'll naught be that easy, miss, fer we've bin giv'n direct orders – any 'ho pass by are ta be taken ta th' Cap'n, right quick. Tha' be meaning' instantly." His smile widened as he stepped forward, revealing more gaps than teeth. Abby had only enough time to consider how dreadfully expected such a sight was before he lunged for her, hands grasping for her waist. She easily darted out of his reach, causally leaning a foot forward to trip him up. He lurched downward, very nearly landing on his own blade, and the others sprang into action. As two of the pirates raced for her from different directions, she reached for the slingshot and bag of rocks at her waist. Carefully taking aim, she sent one hurtling toward the one to her left, hitting him squarely in the right knee. He howled in pain as he hopped on his uninjured leg, his center of gravity shifting enough that he gracelessly plowed over on top of his approaching companion. They toppled over one another, resulting in a spew of words that would have sent most normal women into a faint.

The last two capable pirates warily approached, glances darting between their bickering companions and their out of breath leader. The older of the two made a swipe at her with his blade, which she skirted around. She bent down, folding herself nearly in half, and plowed into his midriff, sending him flying backwards over the still entwined men. Turning to the last pirate, she smiled sweetly at him, glad that the one she had chosen first was the last standing. She saw him gulp as she approached, but he did something unexpected; raising his free hand up with the palm facing toward her, he shouted a single word. She sensed the rush of magic as it approached and was barely able to put up a shield before it forcefully struck her. She had not counted on the fact that the boy might know magic, but it mattered little; her plans were simply forced to change ever so slightly. With a small flick of her wrist, she sent the spell back to its creator, striking him frozen, his blue gaze wide with panic; she'd always relished the look of fear in their eyes. Just as she was about to send a second spell his way, the resounding crack of the hilt of a sword meeting scull echoed through the trees, and she slumped to the ground. The first pirate, apparently finally recovered from his fall, gave a satisfied nod as he lowered his blade to his side.

"This one's got spunk, she 'as," he declared as her rebounded spell was broken. The young man sank to his knees as the other three worked at untangling themselves, eventually succeeding after many curses and much grumbling. The leader nodded his head down at the unconscious woman at his feet, motioning for his men to pick her up. As they did so, he turned toward the main harbor, a pleased grin on his face. "Come, me lads," he declared, motioning them forward. "The Cap'n'll be none too pleased if'n he don't get ter greet 'is new _guest _instantly."


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, I should probably say something at the beginning of this chapter, shouldn't I? I've been mulling over this story for about a month, and finally decided I should act upon it. It's writing incredibly easy so far; this chapter was written and editing over the course of twenty four hours. Hopefully that fact doesn't show too much. XD It hasn't been brought up so far, but I figured I'd cover it now before it does: I am aware that OUaT already has an Abigail character (Catherine, aka Midas' daughter, aka Charming's former...fiance/wife? This is somewhat confusing...). I really don't care. Abby was the name that's stuck in my head since I came up with this, so Abby it is. P.S. don't expect chapters to pop up quite this often most of the time. I just so happened to have today off from work, and therefore had gobs of time to write this. Constructive reviews are always appreciated. :)**

2 – "To die would be an awfully big adventure." J. M. Barrie, _Peter Pan_

Abby awoke in an entirely different circumstance than she ever would have expected, given her last memories. As she groaned, gently rubbing the back of her head where a rather solid lump had developed since the last time she'd checked, her chocolate brown gaze scanned her surroundings. She had been laid down on a small but comfortable bed, pushed up against a bookcase in what appeared to be a sudden manner. The room was a vast one, with another much larger bed across from her and a desk nearby. The wall opposite to her held a second bookcase, both filled to the brim with novels of various sorts and nautical themed trinkets. Maps hung along the bare walls, portraying countries both familiar and strange, and a magnificent portrait of a ship suspended behind the desk. Half of the room was basked in the halfhearted, goldenrod glow of sunrise, given off by the long line of curving windows behind the main bed. Overall, it was a better living arrangement than her own home, though she hated to admit it.

She pulled her knees up to her chin, resting her cheek on them as she assessed her arrangement. While seemingly pleasant, it was less than ideal. She had become a prisoner of Neverland's pirates mere minutes after her arrival in the country, much to her anger and amazement. She was being held in an excellent, yet unknown at the moment, location. The blow to her head had lost her very nearly an entire day, if not more, seeing as her entrance had been midmorning originally. She had been stripped of her dagger, slingshot, bag of rocks, and, surprisingly, her belt buckle. It wasn't the first time it had been taken; this one was the fifth made by her in less than a year. Yet each time it was taken, it left her somewhat hollow, as if they took a portion of her soul with it. She winced inwardly at the ridiculousness of such a glorified metaphor; she could easily make another, after all, and certainly would at the first opportunity, but she had been particularly fond of this one. It was created from the skin of a chimera she had fought, predominantly coming from the snake tail portion of the beast. While snakes were common enough creatures in themselves, the snake of a chimera possessed a unique bluish tinge and very strong magical properties. She adored that buckle almost more than the original one she made the day she set off on her adventures, but she attempted to push her foolish sentimentality aside. Once freed, she would find more material and make another, simple as that.

Deciding that her relaxed position had been sustained long enough, she stretched her legs over the side of the bed, gingerly allowing her bare feet to brush the polished wooden floor. She leaned forward and her head spun, a rushing sound filling her ears. Perhaps standing was not the most brilliant plan of action she could take as of yet. As she slowly leaned her head back against the bookcase, a sudden yet subtle movement from the opposite bed jolted her forward. She grimaced as her scull throbbed, but she forced herself to stand, wobbling slightly as the floor shifted, proving that wherever she was, it was located on the sea. She cautiously and slowly approached the bedside, curiosity beating out sensibility. What she found was startling, to say the least.

He was a fairly attractive young man, possibly a bit older than she was. His black hair fell lazily over his face as he slept, an ever so slightly distressed expression set into his jaw. The beard and mustache, certainly well taken care of in most situations, had turned somewhat wild, as if he hadn't the time to care for it properly the day before. He lay completely outside of the covers, leaving her to assume that his exhaustion had allowed him only the chance to reach the bed before he slumped down upon it. His breathing, while uncomfortably low and mellow, had a slight hitch to it, hinting at a bad dream that kept him from fully sleeping peacefully. Where his left hand ought to have been, a shining, lethal looking hook resided instead.

"What are you doing?!" a voice, half-demanding and half-terrified, asked from behind her. Abby whirled about, momentarily catching a glimpse of a rather plump man in a ridiculous red cap before her knees buckled, setting her onto the edge of the bed with a hard thump. Her head reeled, unsettling her stomach greatly as she attempted to clear her vision. Surprisingly, the sleeping man did not react to the sudden movement so close at his side. Once she could see properly again, she glared at the man in the doorway.

"I won't ask again," he said, the grumble in his voice akin more to a quiver of fear than anger. "What were you doing?"

Her irritation at the stranger resulted in unintentional sarcasm, her eyes rolling as she replied. "That blow to the head one of your men was kind enough to deliver had a dangerous effect on my intelligence, I fear, causing me to instantaneously fall in love with this man here. I was just about to awaken him with a kiss when you so rudely interrupted. Dear God, man, whatever did you _think _I was doing?"

A smirk came to the man's face, leaving Abby to wonder if her sarcasm was not quite apparent enough. He strolled forward, thumbs tucked into his jacket, to stand at her side.

"Funny you should mention it, actually," he stated, the smirk furthered in his tone. She narrowed her eyes in response. "That's precisely why you've been brought here, you see."

She refused to allow her shock to show on her face. Was he insinuating what she thought? That she was this man's…plaything? She supposed it could be worse – he _was _rather handsome – but she had not spent the last ten months proving her worth to become a pirate's _pet_. She certainly refused to be spoken of in such a way by this pathetic excuse for a man.

Even in her stricken state, she was able to stand and firmly grasp the fellow's throat in her iron fingers before he could even consider reacting. He let out a strangled cry, face bright with surprise and honest fear, as she furthered her opinion with her words.

"I'm afraid there has been a rather grave misunderstanding here, sir," she muttered smoothly, emphasizing the mocking sentiment. "You see, Abigail Taylor is _not _one to be commanded about in such a manner, and certainly not one to do anything she does not please. Therefore, you will understand when I state rather firmly that what you may be implying shall not come to pass. I suggest you chose your next words wisely."

He let out a bellowing gasp as she released him, sinking to his knees as he attempted to gather back his breath. Once he had done so, his gaze raised to hers, an inkling of respect in his small eyes. "I did not mean to sound so…improper," he sputtered, slowly rising to his feet. He glanced at the sleeping man, a slightly troubled look crossing his face. "Perhaps this is not the place for such a discussion. Would you care for some tea, Miss Taylor?"

She sat at a high counter, a simple cup of tea grasped in her hands. Considering it was the galley of a pirate ship, the room was exceptionally clean and well kept. Her companion sat across from her, studying her intently rather than enjoying his own drink. Using him as an indication, she did the same, brown eyes meeting his blue ones steadily. Finally, she broke their silence.

"You know mine; now might I inquire as to your name?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea. She'd had better, but it _was _a pirate ship, she reminded herself. He seemed startled by her question, his cheeks instantly growing red. He attempted to hide his embarrassment in his tea.

"Smee," he managed, clearing his throat. "My apologies, Miss Taylor, I hadn't realized – "

She brushed his comments off with the wave of her hand. "No need, Mr. Smee. And please, it's Abby. It's pointless to refer to your prisoner in such cordial terms."

"It is not our intention to hold you captive, Miss Abby," he replied, causing her to smile grimly. "I'm simply following orders."

"If I'm not a prisoner, what precisely is my purpose here? May I leave whenever I please?'

Smee chuckled, startling her. "Afraid not. You see, we need you to do us a…ah…favor, so to speak."

She watched him stoically, motionless except for a single finger stroking her mug. "And if I refuse?"

"Then our circumstances change."

She paused to consider. She came in search of adventure, didn't she? What was to say that this was not what fate had intended for her? Though she thought little of the idea of fate in general, she could not help but feel foolish if she did not mull over an opportunity when it was so easily provided for her. She could hear his proposition, if nothing else; certainly there was little harm in that. "I'm listening."

Smee rose to his feet, motioning her to follow. They made their way back to the room she first awoke in, where the man still slept. She was astonished that all of the activity from before had not caused him to stir. Smee led her to his side.

"This is Hook. Our captain." Her eyebrows rose slightly as she studied him with more interest.

"His name is _Hook_?" she asked, unable to hide the mirth from her voice. "How…original." Her gaze darted amusedly between the man's hook and Smee's face. Smee did not share her amusement.

"His real name is Killian Jones," he barked back in annoyance. "After he lost his hand to the Dark One, he decided a name change was appropriate."

So the captain had had a disagreement with Rumplestiltskin as well. She wouldn't consider herself a direct enemy of the sorcerer, but in the few encounters she'd had with the man, they did not see eye to eye. The sudden connection made particularly curious to discover more.

"What he calls himself isn't important," Smee continued, a slight shadow crossing his face as he glanced down at his captain. "He's been cursed. A sleeping spell."

"Hmm." She sat at Hook's side, reaching forward to lift one of his eyelids. The bright blue eye that greeted her was emotionless, watching her indifferently. She let the lid fall and turned back to Smee. "But he appears to be breathing – I thought sleeping curses made their victims seem nearly dead."

Smee shook his head, shrugging. "No one knows what exactly happened. He was alone at the time." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment, handing it to her. She took it and quickly read. On it was only a single word.

"'_Enjoy_'?" she asked, raising a brow. "And what the hell is _that _supposed to mean?"

"We don't know. We can't even be sure who it's from, but we have a guess."

"Rumplestiltskin," she muttered, studying the script. It sounded like something he would say, and he was more than capable of manipulating such a spell to meet his needs. She handed back the note and stared at him pointedly. "I'm beginning to understand my purpose for becoming your crew's guest, Mr. Smee, but I can't say as I approve."

He had the decency to look uncomfortable. "Yes, well…you're probably right." He sighed, rubbing his arm and pointedly avoiding making eye contact. Finally, he allowed his gaze to meet hers.

"We need you to kiss him."


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, a couple of points before the fun starts. First off, thank you for the follows/reviews/happy things I've been told about this story! It has been so much fun writing it and seeing how people respond. ^.^ I am incorporating more of the traditional story of Peter Pan in here, so look for signs. Additionally, this is your last chance to guess as to which fairy tale Abby is from. There have been a few veiled hints, but this chapter should clear things up pretty splendidly. It's one of my favorite fairy tales, so if you know me, that might give you a hint. :) I'm still not super pleased with this chapter, but I have a feeling that this is the best it's going to get right now, so I figured I would stop fussing over it like an overprotective mother and just let it loose upon the world to make its own mistakes. Reviews are always happily accepted!**

3 – "Oh, the cleverness of me!"

Three days. For three days she had been locked away in that blasted room, forced to sit about uncomfortably while that infuriating pirate captain simply slept on, unconcerned. Three days of Smee, occasionally angry, always pleading, declaring that it was "just a kiss" and "she would be freed as soon as it was over, just like the others." She'd snorted doubtfully at that – freed? Without a backward glance, even if she did not succeed? Unlikely. They claimed the other women (a dozen total, ranging from Indians to mermaids to a young girl in the league with Pan, though she highly doubted the existence of the last one) had been sent off on their merry ways once they complied and were fruitless, but she had no proof. For all she knew, their bodies could be below her at that exact moment, sunk to the bottom of the sea once their usefulness ran out. How was she to know they didn't simply kill them off once their use ran out? They were pirates; killing people for the sport of it seemed required, in her estimation. She personally did not look forward to such a prospect so early in life.

More significantly, she feared the opposite: that she would succeed. That she would finally comply with Smee and that dreadful Starkey's wishes and kiss the man…only to have him awake. She greatly disliked the entire idea. Love was not the sort of thing that just _happened_, as far as she could tell; like a well-tailored jacket, it needed time and fine-tuning to become what it was meant to be. This spell completely destroyed every notion of her theory – it forced the participants, through some claim that only 'true love's' kiss would break it, to believe that they were in love. Where was the evidence? Who was to say that it wasn't simply the implications that came with success that caused these sudden feelings? And, most importantly, who had time to fall in love with a ruddy pirate?

No, Abby refused simply because she did not want to become involved in the twisting of natural feelings that such a curse might cause. _If _she ever fell in love (and the 'if' was assuredly a large one), it would be on her terms. No cursed pirate captain or his bloody crew could tempt her to change her mind.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a tall, exceptionally thin man with short graying hair. Starkey, first mate and therefore temporary captain now that Hook was indisposed, had been making it an annoying habit to pay her a call at least twice a day. He was a polite man, always keeping his temper with her (though he was certainly growing impatient), but it was his lack of explosion in irritation at her defiance that irritated Abby the most. Nothing seemed to bother the man, a fact that very nearly drove her mad with frustration.

"Miss Taylor," he said cordially, closing the door and approaching the desk. He leaned his lanky frame against it, arms crossed over his chest as he considered her. "I assume you have yet to change your mind."

"Though I am certainly loathe to be such a disappointment, Mr. Starkey, I'm afraid I must inform you that I have not. What reason have you brought me today to make me see reason?"

He turned to look at Hook, who was in exactly the same spot as when Abby first saw him. "None, I'm afraid," he replied thoughtfully, studying his captain intently. "I am here simply to see if there is anything that may be done to make your stay more…pleasant."

She laughed in reply. "Release me without forcing me to do as you command," she said simply, rising to stand at his side. The top of her brilliant red head didn't even reach his shoulder. "Allow me my freedom without the condition of risking my sanity. Are you honestly so determined that I am the one to break the curse?"

He gazed down at her, emerald eyes inquisitive. "Any woman or girl we have discovered has been treated the same, Miss Taylor. We merely wish our captain to return to full health, no more. Are you truly so fearful of the possible consequences that you will not even try?" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, blue buckle and holding it out to her. The words carved into the skin, SEVEN AT ONE BLOW, stared mockingly down at her. "I've learned your story, Abigail Taylor. That you, defiant of the role society placed you in, instead chose to cause your own fate rather than allow others to dictate it for you. Tales of your bravery have reached even us, isolated as we are on this island, and yet you fear something as trivial as a kiss. It would appear the boasts told of your cleverness and prowess are as large and unlikely as the giants you supposedly fought." He slowly placed the buckle face down on the desk's smooth surface. "I am sorry my men took this from you. They appeared to believe it held some secret of your power, magic of some sort. While it assuredly does, it is clear that much of your strength comes purely from within." He smoothly strolled to the door, muttering a quiet, "Good day, Miss Taylor," before exiting, locking it behind him.

Slowly, she reached out a hand for the buckle, studying it. He was right, of course, which was particularly maddening, and Abby knew what he was attempting to do. While threats against her bravery were nothing surprising, let alone unexpected, she saw his purpose in doing so. Much of what he said was true; it _was _ridiculous to fear something as trivial as a kiss. She gradually strapped the buckle to her belt, running a thumb absentmindedly over the words. Making her decision before she could pause to consider how foolish it was, she marched forward, planting a single, momentary kiss on Hook's lips.

His eyes blearily shot open.

Hook was highly disoriented. The last he remembered, he had been along the docks, inspecting a supposed crack along the lower bow of the Jolly Roger, when he was approached by a cloaked man bearing promises of bringing back his true love. It was ridiculous – _he _was ridiculous – but the possibility had been too tempting to decline. If he concentrated hard enough, memories of a light blue liquid and a sudden and complete drowsiness overtaking him came back. But now that he was awake, something wasn't right. The face that glared down at him sullenly was paler, with brown eyes filled with irritation and long, dark red hair cascading past her shoulders. This certainly was not the face he'd been expecting.

"You're not Milah," he stated dumbly, his voice hoarse from misuse. The warm eyes vanished momentarily as the woman rolled them in exasperation. She sighed dramatically, elegantly long fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Brilliant," she muttered, turning to pace the length of the room. "Absolutely…ruddy…_brilliant_. This is _precisely _why I did _not _wish to participate in this farce. _Now _what am I expected to do? Play along?" She turned to face him, hands on her hips as he struggled to rise to a sitting position. "I didn't ask for any of this, you know. I had just arrived, minding my own business, content to stay away from _you _and your _preposterous _crew. I was more than willing to simply be on my own merry way. Heaven forbid a woman be left alone."

"Who are you?" he asked, his thoughts still dulled by the spell. He felt it best to keep the conversation as straightforward as possible, until his wits had the chance to catch up. She sighed again, shaking her head.

"Abigail Taylor, late clothier and giant slayer. Known formally as the Seventh Warrior by my followers – a name that sends gasps of fear down the spines of my enemies, might I add. And _you _are Captain Killian Jones, called Hook, who was placed under a highly specialized sleeping curse by an unknown individual, though it is generally suspected that Rumplestiltskin is behind it. Who is Milah?"

He rubbed his temple, attempting to sort out her words. "It does not matter. I must find Starkey." He rose to his feet, almost instantly losing his balance. The woman rushed forward, her eyes suddenly filled with concern as she clasped his elbow. He grumbled a reluctant thanks as she led him to the door.

"Are you certain this is wise?" she inquired as she draped his arm about her shoulders, partially carrying him as he led them down the corridor. He chose not to reply, concentrating on seeking out Starkey. Of all his men, his first mate was the most important to be found.

This was absurd. She'd saved the man from a curse – a curse that _no one else _had been able to break – and he was dragging her about the place like his own personal cane. She was a giant slayer, not a servant, particularly not to some _pirate._

She stood impatiently where he had left her, arms crossed in unveiled irritation. Hook was inside his room once more, Starkey at his side, after he forced her to half carry him from one end of the ship to another in search of his first mate. Once found, he'd demanded they return so the two might converse. What's more, they hadn't allowed her to participate, though she would certainly be the main topic of the conversation, causing her to confirm her initial regret: she should never have kissed the idiotic man.

Smee waited anxiously beside her, eyes darting with a nervous excitement between Abby and the closed door. He was smart enough to know what all this meant – his captain was awake, and it was because of _her_. She was the Chosen One, so to speak. His true love. It was dreadfully romantic, though he would never admit so out loud. He was a pirate, after all.

Abby, meanwhile, decided that if nothing else she ought to be grateful. She felt no more affection for the man she had kissed than when she first saw him. The curse, it would seem, did not actually _force _its victims to instantly fall in love; at least, it hadn't on her side. From Hook's initial reaction to her, as well as this mysterious Milah he had been inquiring about, she doubted his feelings toward her were any stronger than confused disinterest. Thankfully.

The door creaked open, bringing Abby and Smee to attention. Starkey, more relaxed than she had yet to see him, gestured her forward. "The captain wishes to speak with you." She marched forward, sending Starkey a glare of reproach as she passed. She was more than prepared to inform the _captain _of how she felt on the matter of her continued imprisonment. The door shut behind her, leaving the two pirates to consider it. Finally, Smee spoke.

"Mr. Starkey, sir?" he asked tentatively, studying the man's face. "Does this mean what I think it does?"

Starkey's face remained mostly blank, his thoughts on the conversation currently taking place beyond the door's barrier. "Perhaps, Mr. Smee. We shall see."


	4. Chapter 4

**Allow me to take a moment to share with you all how much I REALLY FREAKING LOVE THIS CHAPTER. And hope you do too. :) Additionally, thanks for your continued support and reviews – they are what help ensure that I continue updating this in a timely manner, so keep them up! I don't think I have much to say about this chapter…it's the last of the Neverland arc, which means soon we'll be in Storybrooke, where things get **_**really**_** interesting, and I tried to make it extra long for your benefit. I'm so excited about what's to come, you have no idea. Additionally, I was so into the story that I continued on to the next few chapters instead of editing this one (yeah, I know – I fail), BUT that means the next chapter will be up very, very soon! Enjoy, my friends! **

**(P.S. - in case you didn't realize in the last chapter, Abby's fairy tale is "The Valiant Little Tailor, or Seven at One Blow." It's a Grimm, and seriously one of my favorites. The biggest liberty I made was turning the main character into a female - I have yet to meet a man as dreadfully clever as the Tailor, and so decided that he was actually a she. Besides, it's more fun this way.)**

4 – "Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting." J. M. Barrie, _Peter Pan_

Hook sat behind his desk, hand grasping his chin in thought. Abby strolled forward, going to the main bed's side. She quickly sat, crossing her arms to stare at the captain angrily. He seemed not to notice.

"Taylor," he stated simply with a brief nod.

"Hook," she replied, her voice significantly less cordial. "When am I to be released?"

His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise, a slight grin on his face as he lowered his hand. His fingers rested gracefully on the hook in front of him before he replied. "You wish to leave? So soon? But we've only just met, love."

Her gaze grew fiery at the term of endearment. "Come off it, Hook, you know the spell's a load of bollocks. You're no more in love with me than I am of you."

He chuckled low in his throat, nodding. "I underestimated you, Taylor, despite my first mate's rather enthusiastic warning. I ought to know by now the man's always right. But in all seriousness, do you honestly wish to leave? Without even an explanation?"

He had her at that. She _was _curious to learn more: of the circumstances behind the curse, of his relationship with the Dark One, of Milah. As shameful as it was to realize, she was desperate for the knowledge. She masked the emotions well, however.

Sighing, she unconcernedly stated, "Very well; I suppose you are right. You _do _owe me answers, what with all that I have done for you in our short acquaintance. Are you truly so willing to give them, however?"

"It depends upon the questions," he shot back, shrugging his broad shoulders. "You deserve, at the very least, to hear what transpired that night, if you wish to know. Beyond that, I bow to your assuredly vast number of inquiries."

"We shall begin there, then," she said, pulling her legs up and crossing them. He took a brief moment to study her: basic brown breeches, black embroidered bodice styled after a corset, deep purple jacket with silver buttons and a military feel. Her sturdy brown boots reminded him of his own, and he'd noticed the worn black top hat with peculiar goggles beside her bed earlier. The woman certainly was a strange one.

"That question is far more complex than you might realize," he began, leaning back into his chair, a pensive expression on his face. "The most direct answer I can give will likely leave you unsatisfied. I was informed by one of my men that there was a growing crack in the ship; I immediately went to investigate. It was nearing dark…I was approached by a man. He made me various ambitious promises, and I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. I do not know who he was, but _he _placed the spell."

"Ambitious promises…," she muttered, features thoughtful. "About this Milah woman, I can only assume."

His eyes darkened. "He promised she'd be mine once more…my hope got the best of me, it would seem."

"What precisely did he say?"

Pausing to remember, he said slowly, "'Your love – it is gone. What would you give to take it back?'" He shrugged, face impassive. "It seemed fairly straightforward at the time."

"It's in the phrasing…why would he choose to say 'it' rather than 'she'? It would appear you have been hoodwinked, Captain."

"It still does not explain _you_."

She shrugged back at him, crossing her arms once more. "Men can lie. Spells can be focused. Your man said you had a problem with Rumplestiltskin – he surely could tailor it if need be. And you aren't the only one with a vendetta against him, after all."

They sat silently for a time, considering each other. Both wished to know more of the other's problems with the wizard, but neither seemed willing to openly share. Eventually Hook cleared his throat, breaking the brooding silence.

"Have you any other queries? Surely that is not all you wish to hear."

"No, it isn't," she agreed. "Where is Milah? Why isn't she here to rescue her pirate charming?"

He averted his eyes, blue gaze deep with a bitter sadness. "She's…dead. A few years ago. Killed by Rumplestiltskin…her husband."

She gaped at him, mouth hanging open in a rather unladylike manner. "I…I'm sorry. For your loss. But…you stole the Dark One's _wife_?" Her tone shifted from sympathetic to incredulous at her final words.

"It was before he gained his magic," he growled defensively. "She no longer loved him, I offered her an escape. We had little control over what occurred afterwards. One does not meet many women upon the seas, you know."

"So he assumed you kidnapped her and sought you out," she said slowly, more to herself, as she pieced the information together. "Somewhere along the way he gained his magic, though the question of when and where means little in the end. Eventually he found you, learned of her transfer of affections…and killed her." She paused, examining his emotionless face. She gestured slightly at his hook. "Is that when…?"

He looked up, following her motion and nodding. "Yes. A _gift _from the Crocodile." He smiled grimly, running a finger along the hook's curve. "This man lured me in with his vague promises and, like a fool, I followed. Which of us is the more ridiculous?" He sighed, slamming the hook into the desk's wooden grain. His eyes never left it before he demanded, "Have you any more questions?"

"No – only when I might be allowed to leave."

He wrenched the hook from the wood, rising to his feet and striding toward the door. "You'll leave when I am finished with you. Till then – good day, Miss Taylor." With that, he left, locking her in behind him.

Bloody hell, the fresh air felt fantastic. Abby inhaled deeply, taking in the salty breeze that hinted at exotic flowers. It was about time they let her come outside; while she was forced to admit that Hook's private quarters were magnificent and his occasional company not entirely unpleasant, she was quickly developing a strong case of cabin fever. She hadn't stayed put in one place this long since her tailoring days.

Smee stood uncomfortably at her side, her unofficial warden while she was on deck. The idea of him watching over her was laughable – if she truly wished, she could easily escape without too much effort on her part. But surprisingly, she didn't want to leave…at least not yet. Hook was a fascinating character, though at times infuriatingly frustrating, and she was not surprised that Milah had fallen in love with him. The charming young pirate captain certainly fulfilled any of the swooningly romantic ideas the woman must have felt in her sheltered state of life. Luckily Abby was less inclined to the more silly feminine virtues and looked upon ideas of the heart in a much more realistic manner.

"Rather a nice day, is it not?" Hook's voice cut through her peaceful silence as he approached them, turning to lean against the railing at her side. Her face instantly turned sour.

"In comparison to the fortnight of forced seclusion? Most assuredly." She crossed her arms instinctively, staring across the water toward land. Pan and a pair of his cronies squatted on the sandy shore, the boy's face animated as he gestured at figures in the dirt with a long stick. The others, almost certainly siblings, glanced between him and the ship, and had she been able to see their expressions, she was almost certain they'd be etched with devious grins of mischief. Attempting to change the subject, she nodded in their direction. He followed her motion and chuckled lowly.

"Pan and the Twins," he muttered, shaking his head. "Up to nothing pleasant, no doubt. We're certain to find out soon enough." He raised his eyes, blue gaze turning to the sky thoughtfully. Suddenly, he demanded, "Why do you think I am still holding you here?"

She blinked in surprise, turning gradually to face him. "Honestly? I haven't the slightest notion. Perhaps my womanly charms have finally won you over. You cannot bear to lose me now that I've been found, can you, Captain?"

He chuckled again, though in a less sinister way. "Perhaps not, love. I'm afraid my feelings toward you have yet to make any significant change." He paused, watching Pan and the Twins run back into the forest's darkness. "What are your plans when you leave?"

"You mean, of course, _if _I may leave," she replied dryly before considering. She truthfully could say that she did not know. She'd had enough of this place, that was certain – though she had barely spent any time on the mainland, she felt that her presence there was no longer necessary. But her next destination…typical as always, she would not know it until she arrived. "I'm not certain yet. Why do you ask?"

"I was simply curious…besides, it might be well to keep tabs on you, in case some need arises." His eyes turned to meet hers at his last words, a smirk at his lips. She rolled her eyes, exasperated, causing him to laugh outright. The brute really was impossible.

"I suppose I'll head back to the mainland, try and find something to do with myself. The Seventh Warrior typically finds her services often demanded to perform some service or another." She watched him as he turned back to stare at the shore. He truly was an attractive man, with the midday sun glossing over his tanned face. It was unfortunate she was so little inclined to find herself a mate. "You'll continue toying with Pan, I assume."

"For a time. Eventually I hope to seek out the Crocodile to gain revenge. Neverland was simply meant as a pause to order myself before I sought him out."

Abby nodded, turning away. She caught sight of Smee watching them, a curious expression on his absurd face. Glaring at him, she gestured him away with a single flick of her hand, and was surprised to see him instantly rush away. She watched his retreat, eyebrows furrowed, as Hook continued.

"I kept you nearby for so long because I wished to investigate further. My men found my bewitcher yesterday – it appears he was merely the enabler, not the creator, of the curse. What a complete waste of time." He sighed, rubbing his temple with the smooth edge of his hook. "I wanted to make sure there wasn't more to the curse – that I wouldn't someday find you sleeping in a peaceful little grove somewhere, seeking my kiss to free you."

It was her turn to bark out a laugh, though hers was more doubtful than amused. "Surely you jest, Captain. When might I be in a 'peaceful little grove'?"

"You just said yourself that you didn't know where you will go next; is such a possibility really so astonishing?" He sent her a broad grin as he continued. "Regardless, I wanted to find out as much as I could before sending you back out into the wilds of our world. It is too bad the man proved so…unhelpful." He stepped away from the rail, holding his hand out for hers. She took it without thinking, surprised by the warmth of his grasp. "We found your…ah…_ship_ moored nearby. I saw to it that it was fully restocked for your return."

He called out to Starkey, who quickly set the Jolly Roger into motion. Before long, they were beside the spot where she left her boat not long before. A small rig was hauled up, ready to take her to her craft. He helped her in after Smee clamored aboard, bowing to her slightly.

"My thanks for your assistance, Abigail Taylor," he said quietly, blue eyes boring into her brown ones. "I must say, I found our many conversations…stimulating. I look forward to meeting again." With a flash of his hooked wrist, the boat was lowered, and she suddenly found herself retreating from his tall form. She sat bemused beside Smee who, with a grunt, began rowing them away from the giant vessel's murky side. Turning to the man, she pursed her lips.

"And what do _you _make of all this, Mr. Smee?" she asked, genuinely interested in his answer. He jumped, startled to have been thus addressed, and quickly turned red.

"If you'll excuse my bluntness, miss, I believe he's ridding himself of you before his attachment grows much stronger. Since Miss Milah, he's been less than willing to accept a woman's company. Afraid of what might happen, you see."

She turned back to watch the ship, finding Hook's looming form easily. He stood where she left him, watching her retreat. Smee's answer affected her more than she ever wished to admit. "I suspect he cares little for me, Smee; else wise he'd keep me around. Though I can't say I'm not glad to be gone…a pirate ship is far too confining for me." She shook her head, frowning slightly. "This is ridiculous. It was the curse that caused all this, nothing more. Rumplestiltskin has it in for the both of us."

They reached her ship, Smee handing her inside. Once she was settled, she turned back to him, intent upon thanking him and bidding him farewell. The curious expression he held stopped her.

"Blame the curse all you wish, Miss Abby, but I don't think that's the case. I knew him when Miss Milah was alive – I recognize the signs." He bowed awkwardly from his seat and said his goodbye, turning his boat back toward the Roger. She watched him row away, a pensive look on her face. Shaking her jumbled thoughts away, she began to steer her craft out of its moor, heading to open sea.

She remained focused on her destination, keeping her gaze forward except for a single glance backwards, at the shape she was leaving behind. It too had begun moving, in the opposite direction. The figure from before, certainly Hook still, stood facing her, watching. She raised a single hand in farewell. Met only with the man quickly turning away, she muttered dully under her breath.

"Bloody pirate."


	5. Chapter 5

Storybrooke: Part Two

Chapter Five: "The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it." J.M. Barrie, _Peter Pan_

**Oh hi. Yeah, I know, I'm lame. I wrote this almost a week ago and it's JUST being put up now. I beg forgiveness and offer, this chapter as payment. Anywho, this chapter has a bit of swearing, which is where that initial T rating came from. Please don't be offended. It's also the first Storybrooke story (!), which is such a fun opportunity to incorporate the two different types of worlds. If you haven't noticed on my main page, the first OneShot, "Politics," has been posted. There are at least two others, both taking place in Storybrooke, that will be put up when the time in the regular story is right. Until then, enjoy!**

_Time passed. Both had their own adventures – _

_one even became a queen. _

_Yet each also remembered a two-week period of time when they were together,_

_forced into interaction by a spell neither could control. _

_And though both would fiercely deny it,_

_they missed the easy conversations and pleasant comradely the other gave. _

_It was a novelty to have had a friend._

_But change came, quicker than anyone might have expected. _

_A darkness was approaching – _

_one Abigail could feel to her core, that sent ripples of fear through her soul. _

_Her people had become her family, _

_and she would do anything to protect them. _

_She found the darkness' source and confronted it boldly, _

_making deals with the devil in trade for her silence. _

_And when the deed was done, everything fell exactly into place – _

_except for one._

_She spent the first four years drinking herself into a stupor – she still would not truthfully admit as to why. _

_Eventually she snapped herself out of it, deciding to take advantage _

_of this new world and all it had to offer. _

_She had the means, after all, _

_so why waste them?_

_But she couldn't help but notice the severe lack of pirate captain _

_over the last twenty-eight years._

Abby groaned slightly, rolling over in her massive bed to glare at the offending alarm clock. 8:30 a.m. Bloody 8:30 a.m. and they were already pounding on her door. She truly loathed getting up early.

Another rousing round of knocks from her entryway below elicited a second groan, pulling her to her feet. "Yes, yes, I'm coming!" she yelled, though she doubted whoever it was could hear. She rushed down the grand stairs in her pajamas, deciding that she didn't care if the individual interrupting her slumber saw her in such a state. She pulled the door open to be greeted by the slightly frantic face of Mary Margaret.

"Oh good, you're up," she sighed, obviously relieved and disregarding Abby's appearance. "We're meeting at Granny's in half an hour to discuss some important matters, and we all thought you should come."

"And by all, you mean your daughter," Abby replied with a smirk, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. Though she had been generally well liked before, the return of everyone's memories and revelation that Abby had known all along left many (except her own countrymen and women) suspicious and leery of the young queen. But Emma Swan had become a sort of friend in the last few months as they bonded over Graham's death; Abby found it was refreshing having someone willingly on her side.

Mary Margaret looked uncomfortable, unable to hold Abby's gaze. "Yes, well, Emma _does _want you to come. But we all do, really – you're a ruler too and should be a part of the discussion."

_Always the peacekeeper_, Abby thought, giving the woman a half-hearted smile. "Of course. I'll meet you all there."

Smiling back in response, Mary Margaret said goodbye and walked back down the elaborate path, deftly avoiding making eye contact with the next-door neighbor's house. While most wouldn't understand the reasoning behind it, she had purposefully chosen to reside beside Regina – it was easier to keep track of the woman's doings that way, even if Abby wasn't in Storybrooke often. Besides, Henry was a good kid, and she enjoyed the opportunity to look out for him. He didn't deserve the mother fate dumped on him.

She made her way back to her room, pulling a green and gray striped sweater over her head and a pair of dark jeans on her legs. Brushing out her long red hair, she deftly braided it, deciding she would rather not deal with its natural unruliness that early in the morning. Heading downstairs once more, she entered the large yellow kitchen, pulling two pieces of bread from the bag and plopping them in the toaster. As they browned, she sifted through her massive store of K-Cups, finally choosing a strong, dark roast and placing it into the machine. Her simple breakfast was quickly prepared, leaving her the chance to eat and think in silence. God, she'd miss technology when they went home.

She was still astounded that Emma had actually done it – that this mysterious young woman, Henry's real mother, had actually broken the curse. Over the past day, she'd been referred to as 'Your Majesty' more than she had in years. It had been amusing to observe – everyone's relief at Henry's recovery, the sudden bombardment of memories, Henry and Emma's stunned shock at her title and apparently vast knowledge of the situation. None of them knew the whole truth of the matter, at least not yet, and she was not looking forward to telling them, particularly when her mind was barely functioning. Being a college student four times over had left her with a rather large assortment of bad habits she would soon need to sort out, sleeping in being one of them. Glancing at her watch, she downed the last bit of coffee and made for the door, intent upon Granny's.

Storybrooke was, to be frank, utterly adorable. It was almost something out of the fifties, with its rows of respectable houses and quaint, small town main street shops. Abby didn't know how much of their prison was actually Regina's doing, but she liked it nonetheless. It certainly could have been worse. Swinging the gate open before her, she entered Granny's ready to face the inevitable stream of questions certain to be sent her way.

She was greeted by an unsurprising group – Mary Margaret, of course, and Emma, David, Ruby, Archie, Mother Superior, and a slew of dwarves led by Leroy. As she nodded a greeting to each, she listed their real identities in her head – Snow White, Prince Charming, Red Riding Hood, Jiminy Cricket, the Blue Fairy. How bizarre, after so many years, to know they could remember.

"Abby, you're here. Excellent." David instantly took charge, reinstating himself as the leader he was meant to be. "We have much to discuss."

"Damn right we do," Leroy growled, instantly turning to Abby. "I hear _your _memories of our true selves weren't affected by the curse. Is it true?"

Abby faced the silent but expectant group stoically, fighting off her irritation. So much for getting any _real_ work done today. She shrugged as she began.

"I knew all along, if that's what you're insinuating. I never said anything because I would have been believed just about as much as Henry ever was."

"Is that why you could leave?" Archie asked softly, eyebrows raised. "Because you knew?"

She shifted ever so slightly, uncomfortable. "Well…in a way. It's complicated."

"We're listening," Leroy stated, crossing his thick arms. She sighed, already exhausted, and sat on one of Granny's many stools, preparing herself for the almost certain antagonism about to head her way.

"Not long before the curse, I heard about Regina's plans. Hoping to stop her, or at the very least protect my people, I paid her a call. We made a deal – I would remember everything and be allowed to leave town if I pleased, as well as a guarantee that all of my people were properly looked after, and I would not interfere whatsoever. I had heard that there was a child – Emma, I now realize – destined to eventually break it, and I made her a condition as well: if the child came, I would not impede unless it became of matter of life or death. Graham ended that condition – while he had been under Regina's service when the curse went into effect, he was originally one of my countrymen."

She saw the hurt in Emma's eyes, certainly reflected back in her own. Abby hadn't seen the man since Christmas – she decided to stay at school to finish up some work instead of taking advantage of one of their few breaks. The huntsman, before he lauded such a title, used to work in her castle, but it wasn't until Storybrooke that they became friends. The sheriff version of the man was much like the fairy tale, and they got on well. When she discovered he had died, she immediately left school, intent upon giving Regina hell. She changed her mind when she met Emma.

"You knew _everything_?" Mary Margaret breathed, her honest face drenched in hurt and confusion, apparently unable to process anything beyond that fact. "But…why didn't you _do_ anything?"

"I would have, years ago before the curse even took place, if I could. _Obviously_." She reached to toy with a peppershaker, choosing to watch it rather than the many pairs of stunned eyes. "It became apparent when I met with Regina that there was nothing I could do to stop it or her. Luckily she thought I was more skilled than I am – I blackmailed her, got her to agree to my terms or I'd stop the curse. I did the best I could, considering the circumstances."

"You had no right." She turned her head swiftly to glare at David, who stood stiffly with his hands clasped into fists. "You had no right to make such a deal – to be so completely and totally _selfish_."

"Selfish?" she roared, rising to her feet. "_Selfish?_ How _dare _you, David Nolan. How _dare _you, _Prince Charming_. You think I did this for me? That I asked for the wealth and privilege Regina bestowed upon me? You are a fool. All I did, approaching Regina – at great personal risk, I might add – making deals with her, risking my _life_ – it was all for my people. I would never allow that _woman_, or anyone else for that matter, to harm a single one of them. _Ever_. Everything I do, ever since the very moment I became queen, has been solely and utterly for them." She approached him, noting the flicker of fear in his eyes. Her words fell to a whisper. "My people are all I have left, Mr. Nolan. If that curse had promised to leave them be, I wouldn't have given a fuck what it did to the lot of you. But it did – it promised to bring them here, just like you. And I would do _anything_ to protect them." With that, she strolled from the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

She sat at the large mahogany desk in her study, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. It had been a constant parade of visitors all day – advisors, courtiers, servants, commoners. All seeking to have their understandably ruffled feathers settled by their esteemed ruler. She did her best to settle their nerves, and believed she generally succeeded. The task was dreadfully exhausting, however.

Her peace was interrupted by a soft knock at her door. Resigning herself that she would not be allowed a single moment to herself that day, she sighed lightly and called for whomever it was to enter. His identity was surprising, to say the least.

"David. How may I help you?"

The man cleared his throat, gradually approaching the desk. "I, ah, came to…apologize. I may have gone too far this morning."

Abby raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "You don't say." She turned her eyes back to her work, sifting through papers and ignoring him. David stood awkwardly before her, awaiting a further response. Once she'd made him properly uncomfortable, she flicked her gaze back to his. "Is there anything else? I've work to do, you see."

He jumped slightly before responding. "Oh. Yes. Well…we never really did get the chance to discuss at Granny's, what with…if you have a moment, we'd…"

As he trailed off, she sighed, pulling herself wearily to her feet. "Of course. I'm right behind you. Lead on, good sir." She paused at the doorway, trading the scuffed boating shoes she had been wearing around the house for a more presentable pair of plain black flats. Following him out of the room, the two awkwardly made their way to the diner, neither saying a word to the other. The scene they walked in on was much like the one from earlier, thought the majority of the expressions that greeted them were significantly less hostile than previously.

The discussion, overall, was unproductive. The curse may have been lifted, and magic returned to them, but they still were stuck in Storybrooke. They had no idea how to return, or even if they could simply leave the town, and no one seemed keen on finding out if they might. Abby was growing increasingly more frustrated with the whole thing when a great rush of wind gusted down the street, crushing the windows into glass splinters that ricocheted through the room. Dodging the sharp edges, the group rushed out the door, wary of what they might find.

Main Street was drenched in debris. At the very center, a large indentation rocked the pavement, sending enormous cracks though the cement. From amidst the dusty interior of the chaos, two forms rose, one bent double in a fit of coughing. Abby gasped as the haze settled and the forms began to take shape.

"Is that…Cora?" Mary Margaret questioned breathlessly, fear stuttering her words. "And…"

Abby interrupted, her own voice soft in shock and amazement. "Killian Jones. Captain Hook."


	6. Chapter 6

6 – "To live will be an awfully big adventure." J.M. Barrie

**Oh hi there. So I have come to a conclusion – this story will have to be more than the eight original chapters I envisioned if I'm going to accomplish what I want here. That isn't necessarily a bad thing (more for you to enjoy!), but it may mean a bit of a longer period of time between updates. Fortunately I have quite a few oneshots made up that I can post between chapters, so you lot won't be left completely Abby/Hookless. The same warning as before applies – a bit of language here and there, so if that bothers you…well, I'm sorry? I do what I want. Or rather, what the characters want. Other than that, I don't think I have anything to add, so tally ho! (Did I seriously just say 'tally ho'…?)**

There she was. Abigail Taylor. Half of the reason he was here, why he agreed to become Cora's temporary minion, though she'd never find out. And there she was, stunned at his unexpected appearance, but looking healthy. And _alive._

He hadn't really realized how much he'd missed her until that moment, standing in the middle of a street gaping at her, Cora smirkingly at his side. He'd almost forgotten what she looked like – strong jaw, arched brows, lean frame. Her scarlet hair was tied back in a braid, though close to half of it had fallen out to dance along her face and shoulders. It was shorter than he remembered.

"HOOK! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Her shock turned almost instantly to rage as she rushed for him, her hand instantly reaching for his collar to pull him down to her height. Her eyes, still the shade of properly brewed tea, shot daggers at him. His automatic reaction was a half grin.

"First time you've seen me in nearly thirty years, love, and this is the reaction I receive?" He had the enjoyment of watching her roll her eyes, already frustrated with him. It had been too long since he'd seen her do so.

Cora, meanwhile, dealt with the others and ignored the two. "Where is my lovely daughter?" she purred, a sinister snap behind the innocent words. Emma foolishly stepped forward first.

"Who are you? And where did you come from?" she demanded, pretty face scowling. Cora chuckled, crossing her arms to consider.

"Emma! Be careful!" Mary Margaret, glued to David's side, reached a firm hand toward her daughter, which she blatantly ignored. She certainly had spunk – a trait passed down from both parents.

"I won't ask again," the woman growled, hand going to her waist and the non-magical weapon there. Cora noticed the motion and laughed.

"Silly child, what makes you think such a piece would ever work on me? I suppose you are the one who broke the curse. Allow me to offer my sincere thanks for doing the task. I was beginning to grow restless." She turned to Hook, still at Abby's side. "Your services are no longer required, Captain. You are free to do as you will."

He smirked, though there was a twinge of uncertainty in his eyes. "A pleasure, Cora. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've a Crocodile to skin."

Abby stalked back and forth across the diner's linoleum floor, Granny observing her patiently from behind the counter. The young woman's emotions jerked from one feeling to another – relief that Hook was alive, curiosity as to how they got here, anger that he only came to find Gold, frustration that she even cared. She didn't even give a damn about Cora, though she knew she should – she was an even bigger threat than Regina.

Hook immediately had rushed off, ignoring Abby's demands for him to stop. Emma, after quickly learning the basic information behind Hook's reputation with Gold, went off in search of him, calling back to her friend to wait at Granny's until she returned. Abby loathed to be ordered about in such a way and would certainly have preferred to participate in the search, but the sudden arrival of this man from her past left her more than a little frazzled. Going against her typical character, she did as Emma demanded, allowing Emma to do her job without interference while Mary Margaret and David searched for Cora. The sorceress, apparently intent upon finding her daughter regardless of what anyone else attempted to do, vanished not long after Hook. No one knew of Regina's location either, leading the entire community to feel slightly flustered and more than adequately terrified.

"So what is it that's bothering you so, dear?" Granny abruptly asked, wrenching Abby's attention away from her thoughts. She glanced at the woman, biting her lip slightly as she considered her answer. No one besides Hook's pirates knew of the two's interaction, and she was not inclined to share the story if she could help it. She knew most everyone would jump to conclusions, particularly David and Mary Margaret. She certainly did not need that added stress.

"How can I help but be agitated, Granny?" she shot back, crossing her arms. "We've just proven that we can move between worlds – at least, Cora can come here, and bring others with her. If she can, will others be able to as well? May we return home? How do we do so? And what chaos will ensue now that mother and daughter are reunited once more?" Her stream of excuse-filled questions slammed to a halt at the entrance of Emma, her gaze as determined as ever. She motioned to Abby, who rushed forward, anxious to avoid Granny's doubtful stare.

"We've caught up with this Hook guy," the sheriff explained, thumbs latched in her belt. "Thankfully he hadn't found Gold yet – I'm fairly certain he's aware of what's going on and has chosen to keep away rather than confront Hook, which is convenient for us. He agreed to come quietly if he could speak with you." Her face thinly veiled curiosity as Abby's hardened. "I take it you two know each other."

"Unfortunately," Abby growled back, pulling her friend from the room and toward the station. She couldn't stand another moment of Granny's oddly knowing look boring into her skin. "It's a rather…_uncomfortable_ story. I'll tell you later, I promise." They rushed down the road, more intent upon their destination than conversation, and once they arrived, were greeted by the grim pirate pacing his cell, mirroring Abby's actions of not long before. He glimpsed up swiftly when he heard them enter, a sly grin at his lips.

"Well, well, well," he purred, approaching the bars and slouching lazily through them as he looked Abby up and down. "I didn't think you'd come, love." Emma's mouth gaped open slightly at his words, but Abby merely scowled as she advanced on him, hands on her hips.

"Don't 'love' me, you bastard," she growled, eyes narrowing. "What the _hell _were you thinking, agreeing to help Cora just to get at Rumplestiltskin? Have you considered _nothing _else since the curse took place?"

His face softened slightly, blue eyes observing her face slowly. "That wasn't the only reason. I told you I preferred to know exactly where you are, in case I might need to…repay your favor." He glanced at Emma, whose confusion was apparent. Nodding in her direction, he asked quietly, "Is she the one?"

Abby turned to lean against the bars, smiling at her friend. "She is. Captain Killian 'Hook' Jones, allow me to introduce Sheriff Emma Swan, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and savior of our people. Emma, the bane of my existence." Hook barked a laugh while Emma grinned. She stepped forward to shake his remaining hand awkwardly between the bars.

"I'm holding you to that promise to tell me this story, Abby," she stated, raising her eyebrows at the woman at her side. "Something tells me it will be _fascinating._"

"She doesn't know?" Hook asked, amusement in his voice. Abby snarled in response.

"_No one_ does, so let's keep it that way, shall we?" she shot back, warning in her heated glance. His mischievous smile did nothing to reassure her.

"So what are we to do now?" he asked, strolling over to the pathetic bed the cell provided and flinging himself upon it. "Technically I haven't broken any laws, as far as I know, which means that you cannot hold me here forever."

"And if we let you loose, you'll be after Gol-_Rumplestiltskin_ in a heartbeat," Abby replied casually, turning to sit on the surface of a desk facing the cell. "Besides the fact that such a plot is an idiotic life choice on your part, it's a federal offence to attempt to murder someone in this world. Plus, there's the problem of where to keep you…"

"Can't he just stay at Granny's?" Emma offered. "I mean, she has the room, so why not?"

"I can't imagine Granny would be very pleased – he's a pirate captain, after all, Emma. And there's no way to know he won't go after Gold when no one's paying him any mind. Besides, we can't just throw him on poor Granny – I doubt he even has a way to pay the woman."

Hook attempted to interject, sapphire eyes flashing with irritation, but the two women were too intent upon their debate to notice. They continued tossing out options, each shot down as inappropriate or not worth the trouble. As Abby grew increasingly more frustrated, the captain finally found the chance to interject.

"If the two of you are quite finished discussing me as if I were not here," he drawled into the brief silence as they paused. "I would like to offer my own _personal_ input on the matter of _my_ residence while in your darling little township." Rolling her eyes at his melodrama, Abby motioned for him to continue. "Let me stay with Abby. She can nanny me, and the only one I'd be bothering is her. Think of it as repayment for that fortnight you spent locked away on my ship."

She grimaced at him in response, causing him to grin wickedly back. His suggestion was twofold: it truly was the best option, given the circumstances, and it would allow him the opportunity to be around her without arousing suspicion. As much as he tried to stifle the growing curiosity he felt for her ever since she left, he could no longer deny that he was attached to her in some small way. Over the twenty-eight years since the curse had taken affect, he often found himself wondering what happened to the woman, wishing he could find her, whether she was in this world or another. This near constant reflection led him to Cora, the only logical source of a means to cross the giant barrier the curse created. Revenge afforded him the front of reasoning, and while he still yearned for it, it was not his focus now that she in his sights. He simply needed the chance to illustrate his charms and develop her feelings to match his own. It would be an amusing project.

He watched her contemplate his idea, her fingers tapping the desk below her in agitation. Finally, she sighed, running a hand across her face and shooting him a glare.

"Very well," she relented, rising to her feet. "You're right, regrettably. Heaven knows I have the room for one bloody pirate. But allow me to make this perfectly clear, Hook – one wrong move, a single twitch of that elegantly crafted appendage of yours, and you'll be back in that cell sooner than you'd ever expect. I won't have any nonsense happening right under my nose while this farce carries on."

Hook fought against the triumphant grin that wished to cross his features, opting to nod grimly instead. Emma, somewhat reluctant at releasing a potential threat and shooting her friend an uncertain glance, unlocked his cell, stepping back to let him pass. He went immediately to Abby's side, unable to keep the very small smirk from his lips. She, in turn, chose to ignore it.

"Can you let everyone know of what's happened?" she asked Emma as she led the pirate away. "If you stop by later, I can explain further. Sorry for all the trouble, Emma. Honestly."

Emma shrugged, hands on her hips nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of Mary Margaret and David. Just…are you sure?"

Abby sensed the hidden meaning laced in the question, responding with a shrug of her own. "To be truthful? I haven't a clue. But it's our best option right now. We'll figure something out." She was about to leave when she suddenly turned back, pulling the woman into a quick hug. "And Emma?"  
"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

As he was guided up the path to Abby's home, Hook froze, taking in the sight before him incredulously. The house was colossal – three stories high and even wider across, painted a shade of blue that matched a spring sky. If he craned his neck, he could just barely peer around the building's corner, noticing a glass encased box that may have been a conservatory and a long, open deck twisting out of sight. There were over a dozen windows and even a pair of balconies, one along each edge, making the building appear even wider. When his stunned gaze finally came back to rest on Abby, she appeared amused, her hand resting on the black door's handle.

"Problem?" she inquired, quirking an eyebrow. He responded in kind and finally stepped forward, giving her a noncommittal shrug.

"Your home is…large," he managed as she pushed the door open and led him inside, where an equally impressive view assaulted him. The floors were covered in marble, artwork of various sorts situated pleasingly about the foyer, and an enormous sloping staircase glided gracefully down to greet them. As if the general grandeur and opulence were not obvious enough, a regal chandelier hung above them, sending rainbows of light across the room from the window it stood before. Hook let out a barking laugh as he took the sight in. "And impressive. Certainly impressive."

"I suppose it is," she replied disinterestedly, leading him up the steps. As they climbed, he ran his hook gently over the banister as he took the sight in, eliciting the tiniest of squeaks. He heard Abby sigh as she yanked his arm away, shaking him off almost immediately after. "Those are _expensive_, you know," she muttered as they reached a tall corridor. "Just because I have the wealth doesn't mean I ought to waste it."

"How did you come to be so…well endowed?" he asked, attempting to see has much as he could as he led her toward a room at the very end of the hall. She motioned for him to enter and followed, observing as he took in the dwelling that would be his indefinitely. It was one of her more masculine themed bedrooms, with richer colors and a more natural motif that she suspected he would appreciate. From his expression, she deduced she was correct.

"Regina," she answered simply as he roved the room, finally stopping to rest against the empty fireplace. "I'm assuming that when she altered the curse after my threat, she took great pains to guarantee I was as rich as possible, to prevent me from going back on my word. Not that I'm complaining, mind."

"Of course," he said with another of his half grins, sitting in the dark red armchair beside him with a sigh. He appeared completely exhausted.

"Look, you've had an…eventful day. Why don't you rest here for a while and I'll send someone for you when dinner is ready? I really ought to get back to work anyway…"

Nodding, he yawned, barely paying attention to her words. Soon he was fast asleep in the chair, legs sprawled awkwardly before him. She chortled at the view, pulling one of the blankets from the bed and draping it over him gently. He muttered incoherently in his sleep as she left, intent upon her study, though she severely doubted any more work would be accomplished that day.

7 - "You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything for it." J.M. Barrie


	7. Chapter 7

-**This chapter is SO. LONG. I can't even get over it. It's almost a bit of a filler chapter, to show some of the developments of Hook and Abby's relationship before the bigger action occurs. I've had this idea of their final interaction in my head since before I started writing, so I knew it had to be included. There's a reason why Othello is the story they read…oh, and I finally found a way to incorporate Harry Potter! I am a huge, huge, HUGE HP fan, so it was inevitable. And it gave me the opportunity to share some of my views on reading (through my lovely and forcefully willing characters) in the process, so win win. Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter or have anything to do with it. Or OUaT, actually. Or…Shakespeare. Do I really need to do a disclaimer for a guy who's been dead for years? I dunno, but I'll cover my butt just in case. Next up will be a few more oneshots (and if you haven't, go to my main page and read the first two – "Politics" and "The Unfortunate Disadvantages of Technology." They aren't totally necessary for the plotline, but it will make the flow of their relationship more reasonable). Enjoy!**

7 - "You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything for it." J. M. Barrie, _Peter Pan_

Having Hook in her house was…surprisingly pleasant. The tension held over the two when Abby had been captured was all but gone – it was almost as if he _liked _saying here with her. Each morning, once Abby had wrenched herself from her bed to amble down to the kitchen, Hook was already exploring, discovering some new technological marvel to unravel and beg explanations for, just as she had expected. For the time being, he was confined to the house and grounds about it, which did not appear to bother him greatly. She owned a decent amount of land, considering the size of the town in general, including a rather small duck pond and a bit of forest. She'd often go about in search of his whereabouts, only to discover him beneath the massive maple tree at the water's edge, watching the ducks peacefully or reading a book he'd kidnapped from her expansive library. That was another shock to Abby's system – those books surrounding the walls of his quarters on his ship were apparently not simply for show. He read actively, for a pirate, and she could not help but feel amused at the concept.

Cora, meanwhile, had disappeared, along with Regina, leaving Henry under Emma's care. With this worrisome yet pleasant setback, her call on Abby to hear of her background was forced to be delayed. It wasn't until that afternoon, nearly three days after the incident, that the two had any opportunity to meet.

Abby and Emma sat facing one another, a cup of faintly steaming coffee before each. Henry waited patiently beside his mother, an eyebrow raised questioningly as he glanced between the two women. The kid really was far too bright for his own good.

"So," Emma began awkwardly, griping her mug tightly. "How's living with a pirate?"

"Much better now that he's _my _captive rather than the other way round," Abby replied with a snort. Henry's boyish face alit with curiosity.

"You were Hook's prisoner?" he asked excitedly, leaning forward to hear more.

Chuckling, Abby nodded. "I was – that's actually where the story starts…" She quickly explained, observing the amazed expressions on their faces with amusement. Once she finished, she faced a rather stunned silence. As she awaited a response, a bark of laughter from the doorway made them all jump.

Sauntering forward with his usual swagger, Hook came to sit at the stool beside Abby, leaning toward her casually. He tapped the table lightly with the tip of his hook, grinning at her. "I thought we weren't telling anyone?"

"I promised to inform Emma, if you recall," she shot back at him, frowning slightly down at his smirking face. "I do not go back on my word."

"Yes, but what about the lad?" He gestured at Henry with his hook, causing the boy's eyes to widen. True to form, however, the child did not balk at the gesture.

"What story are you from, Abby?" he asked, ignoring Hook's actions, much to the man's amusement. "You're not in my book…"

Abby shrugged, rising to her feet. "I can't say why I'm not included, but I suspect it has something to do with my deal with Regina. As to your question…come along." She led them upstairs to her bedroom, where she left them puzzled and curious as she dug around in her vast dresser. Letting out a cry of success, she pulled a long, thin object deep from its depths, strapping it expertly about her waist. When she turned, Hook grinned.

Emma and Henry bent forward, attempting to read the elaborate scrawl printed on the buckle. "Seven at one blow," Emma muttered, furrowing her brows and shooting Abby an alarmed look. "You killed _seven men _in _one go_?"

"Not men – flies," Henry said, turning to his mother with a smile. "'The Valiant Little Tailor, or Seven at One Blow.' But…our world's version says you're a _man_."

As Hook roared with laughter, Abby stared at the boy, dumbfounded. "It says…I'm a man?" she croaked, running a hand through her hair. "I never thought to read it before…I mean, I _lived_ it, why would I ever bother _reading _it? But I never expected…"

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Hook shot her an evil grin. "Maybe it's trying to tell you something, Tailor. You do march about in a rather manly manner…"

Scowling, she punched him in the arm, hard. He winced, but the mischievous glint in his bright gaze remained. "I am _not _a man, you dunce, and you know it."

He suddenly turned serious, a fierce glow to his eyes as he watched her. "No," he said solemnly. "You're not."

Abby's frown deepened as she tried to make sense of his unexpectedly strange demeanor. She glanced at Emma, seeing a knowing realization pass over the woman's expression. Shaking her head, she attempted to brush off the abrupt awkwardness.

"Well, at least we know the truth of the matter now. I wonder how difficult it would be to magic a change to all of the copies…I do want these muggles to be as informed to the truth as reasonably possible."

"Muggles…?" Hook asked questioningly, eyebrows raised, as Emma and Henry took their turn to laugh.

Patting her belt, which was still in excellent condition considering its age and most recent living environment, Abby motioned them back downstairs. "It's a this world joke. Never fear, Captain, I own all seven editions many times over. I believe you'll enjoy Severus Snape – he rather reminds me of you." Hook allowed himself to be steered downstairs by Henry, who quickly outlined the basic plotline to the pirate. Emma, meanwhile, held Abby slightly back, hazel eyes boring into hers.

"All right…this spell," she began slowly as they followed the boys. "It's your fairly traditional fairy tale sleeping curse, correct? True love's kiss and all that?"

Abby sighed, automatically pinching the bridge of her nose in her irritation. "Yes and no. Its format is very similar, but it was adjusted to specifically deal with the two of us."

"That's possible?"

"When Rumplestiltskin's behind it, nearly anything you can dream up is. Luckily it didn't come with the usual side effects."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Emma noted with a small smile, watching Henry lead Hook into the library. Abby grabbed her arm and forced her to halt.

"And what the hell's _that _supposed to mean?" she demanded heatedly, chocolate eyes flashing. Emma's countenance gave off a combination of pained and amused.

"He _obviously _likes you, Abby," Emma stated, her smile widening. "I haven't known him that long, but he's fairly easy to read as long as he's around _you_. I wouldn't take that curse too lightly – _you _might not be feeling any ill effects, but the dashing young pirate captain you're housing appears to."

"You know nothing of the situation," Abby shot back with more vehemence than she intended, feeling her cheeks redden very slightly. "Rumplestiltskin's toyed with us in a fit of silly revenge, no more or less."

"How are you so sure that the curse was any different than usual? Or that Gold even cast it?" Emma countered, unfazed by her friend's intensity. Abby felt herself falter slightly at the question.

"Hook's man, Starkey – he said it seemed off. Something about the curse didn't feel right. Hook himself concurred when he awoke. Neither of us is particularly in the sorcerer's good graces…it's the logical supposition considering the circumstances. We've no reason to think otherwise."

"Just because it seems off doesn't mean it is…or that what you all assume is true," she sagely replied, before hurriedly changing the subject. "We're meeting later to figure out what to do about Regina and Cora. You in?"

Attempting to shake off Emma's claims, Abby nodded absentmindedly. "Fine. Granny's?"

Emma grinned in response, running down the last few steps to call out for Henry. "Meet us there at three. And I'd leave the pirate at home." With that the two were gone, leaving Abby in peace to consider.

Everyone who knew the full story from the start was under the impression that, without an inkling of doubt in anyone's mind, Rumplestiltskin was behind Hook's sleeping curse. Both had been at odds with him at least once before – it certainly made sense for the monster to seek revenge, and what better way than to affect both at once? Perhaps he was trying to show the fickleness of Hook's heart, the inevitable weakness of Abby's; regardless, over the last thirty odd years, she had been firm in her certainty that the curse was planned out carefully to do the two of them the most harm, giving her an excuse for the emotions she occasionally was forced to shoot down. The very thought that it was not had her reeling. She would not allow it to be possible.

Forcing herself from her reverie, she marched into the library, wiping the baffled and concerned expression from her face. She found Hook in an armchair, a tall and somewhat precarious stack of books seated on the floor beside him. His attention was focused on the novel in his lap, causing her to smile reflexively. His strong jaw clenched slightly as his eyes darted across the page, one long finger gracefully stroking the page absentmindedly. Over the past few days, she'd grown to enjoy watching him read – seeing the dedication and focus he put into the task hinted at how he acted with all enterprises he undertook. Smoothly taking a chair across from him, she folded her legs under her to observe.

"Henry managed to uncover all seven for you, then," she noted, gradually pulling his attention toward her. He lifted his gaze momentarily to send her a grin.

"Indeed. Tell me, how long must this unfortunate boy be forced to consort with these foul Dursley people?"

She laughed, reaching for the stack and sifting through it, seeking out her favorite. "Well, not _too _terribly long, in the large scope of the series. Eventually he has to go off to school, after all, and the Dursleys can't follow him there."

He grunted in answer, his concentration returning to the story. They sat in companionable silence for a time, both reading in surprisingly easy silence. Eventually her notice was caught by a snort of derision from her companion.

"_Draco Malfoy?_" he asked in response to her raised eyebrow. "What the bloody hell kind of name is that?"

She shrugged, amused at how engrossed he was already. "He's a pureblood, which is a big deal in their culture. I suppose that gives him the right to have such a ridiculous name." She frowned slightly as his gaze fell back to the book. Deciding that now was as good a chance as any other, she asked the question that had been intriguing her since he arrived. "How did you become such a dedicated reader?"

He folded the top corner of the page, marking his place as he closed the worn edges. She might have been irritated at such a motion did she not do the same herself. He pondered her question thoughtfully before answering.

"My mother used to read to me as a child, and I always enjoyed it. As I grew older, it became an escape mechanism – lose yourself in the woes of another to forget the trials of now. It's a pleasant experience, but it also detoxifies; I feel more prepared to deal with my own problems after seeing I'm not the only one to have them." He glanced down at the book he held, running his hook softly down the cover. "I have a feeling that whatever I will be forced to face will not compare to the troubles of this Harry Potter lad."

"Too right, you are," she agreed before swiftly growing serious. "I've never heard someone put it so properly before – the reasons why I love reading. Books are loyal companions, constantly willing to welcome you back even after years of neglect, happy to give you the opportunity to elude reality, if only for a time. No matter how lost or alone I've felt before, I've always known I have characters like Harry, Ron, and Hermione to show me how worse off I could be."

He glimpsed back up, a frown darkening his striking features fleetingly. "Don't be giving anything away, wench. I haven't met any Rons or Hermiones yet."

She stood, holding her arms up defensively as she set her own book aside. "Far be it from me to hand out any important plot or character details to someone who possesses such similar tastes in reading as my own. Besides, I have to meet some of the others. You'll be fine here with Harry?"

Smirking, he nodded. "You mean, 'You won't leave and cause mayhem about the township while I'm gone'? No, I am quite content for the time being, thank you. I promised I would not leave unless given permission, and I would never go back on a vow to you."

His dedication, highly apparent in his tone, stilled her instantly. Emma's words drifted back into her mind, distracting her enough to cause her to pause. Roughly, she pushed her musings away, refusing to consider them when more important matters were at hand. Cora and Regina needed to be her focus, and she'd be damned if the sheriff's inclinations would engross her long, regardless of how interesting and terrifying an idea they might be.

Later that night, Abby sat curled up beneath multiple blankets, a massive red volume propped up against her bent knees. After the disaster of a meeting that afternoon, she felt justified in pulling out one of her favorite standbys. Why, of all forty odd plays and poetry, she chose Othello was beyond her, but she decided to agree with what fate decided for her. It had been a long while since she met with the Moor of Venice.

The only task the group accomplished when they met was angering and frustrating one another further. Wherever Cora and Regina had gone, none of them had a clue, and Abby had been the only one willing to admit it forthright. This had led to a shouting match between her and most of the others, particularly Leroy, who thought they'd get nowhere with such a pessimistic attitude. She considered it the more practical viewpoint – what was the point in feigning they had any idea what they were doing? Together, the two were more than capable of giving them quite the fight, but where they were hiding didn't seem to matter as much as preparing to face them once they returned – for return they certainly would. It seemed foolhardy to gallivant about in search of them, particularly since they would inevitably show up to bother everyone eventually. Cora's plan, whatever it was, certainly did not stop at recovering her highly reluctant daughter. Better to ready themselves than go headlong into trouble, in her opinion.

She was pulled from her reverie by a light tap at her door. She called for whoever it was to enter, certain it was one of her servants bidding her goodnight, and gave a start when Hook's navy eyes appeared in the crack. She motioned him in as she rose to a seated position, slightly aware that they would be conversing in their pajamas. For some reason, she found this concept highly comical.

"Hook. What can I do for you?" she asked, setting Shakespeare aside. He nodded toward the novel on her other side.

"I am in need of the next in the series, which I see you have here. I rather think it's become an obsession."

She laughed, tossing him the book. "Yes, that's been known to happen. I'm surprised you're already on Prisoner, though – you must have nearly _flown _through the first two."

Smiling, he came to the bedside and sat. "Yes, well, when the novel's well written and interesting, that's bound to occur." He reached for her other tomb, hefting the heavy volume in his grasp. "What's this monstrosity about?"

"It's Shakespeare," she replied, flipping it open to show him the table of contents. "He was a seventeenth century poet and dramatist, absolutely bloody brilliant. This is a complete collection of his works – sonnets, poetry, comedies, tragedies, and histories. After today, I decided I deserved a bit of Billy time."

He flipped through the pages, stopping every so often to skim over the words. "This language is fascinating. Which were you enjoying?"

"'The Tragedy of Othello the Moor of Venice,'" she replied, guiding him to the correct place. "Not the most uplifting of stories, I admit, but enjoyable." As he perused the cast list, a sudden thought came to her. Before she could decide against such an idea, she uttered, "Would you like to read it with me?"

Lifting an eyebrow at her, he glanced between the hardcover and her face. He rose to his feet and, for a moment, her heart plummeted inexplicably to her toes. It was not until he turned to seat himself roughly at her side, placing the book between them, that she realized he was agreeing to her suggestion.

"How will we go about doing this, then?" he asked, bowing to her experience. She considered him for a moment, a slight grin on her face.

"We'll figure out the main parts and split the minor ones," she decided, browsing the page. "I love Iago and insist that I speak for him, so you ought to be Othello. Let's see if we can't mix it up properly…" Before long, she had the parts divided and they began to read. Before long they were lost in the story, Abby enjoying rediscovering it and surveying Hook's interest. It was not until near the end of Act I before either spoke words other than the ones written on the page.

"'She is abused, stol'n from me,'" Abby read as Brabantio, "'and corrupted By the spells and medicines bought of mountebanks; For nature so prepost'rously to err, Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, Sans witchcraft could not.'" She paused, waiting for him to continue. Instead, his eyes stood transfixed to the book, frowning slightly. She poked his arm, leaning forward to whisper loudly, "That's you, Duke."

He shook himself, but rather than following her suggestion, he turned to stare at her, his gaze penetrating as he considered the woman at his side. "Brabantio thinks Othello has tricked his daughter – magiced her into thinking she's in love with him – correct?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. He doesn't think it's proper – she's the daughter of this important senator and eloped with a moor. I mean, Othello's an influential man…he leads the army, for heaven's sake, and everyone loves him, but still. The relationship isn't exactly proper for the time period. Brabantio thinks that trickery is the only way the two could have fallen in love."

His expression was severe as he turned back to the book. "But, he didn't actually trick her, yes? They genuinely fell in love?"

Her brows furrowed at his serious concern. "They did, although Othello constantly doubts his worth for her. That's part of the guiding conflict as the play progresses."

"This won't end well, will it?" he muttered, eyes never faltering from the words before him. She felt her stomach clench slightly before she answered.

"No. It won't."

He nodded solemnly and abruptly continued reading, following the story as smoothly as if he hadn't interrupted. She attempted to do the same, though the ease they held previously had vanished. Not long afterwards, he excused himself, claiming he was tired. As he made for the door, she called out to him from her place on the bed.

"Same time tomorrow?"

With a small smile, he nodded, turning his blue gaze back to her brown one. "I look forward to it."


	8. Chapter 8

8 – "Never is an awfully long time."

**I am a terrible, horrible human being. Seriously, I haven't felt this bad about myself in…well, a while. I started writing this chapter months ago and it just kind of…died. I had no idea what I was doing. So, I let it rest. Like a good wine, I figured it would end up being much better if I allowed it the chance to hang out and do its thing. Then I got distracted, started writing Harry Potter stories…and basically forgot about this one. That is, until I received a wholly unexpected favorite and review that reminded me that this all existed. Determined to succeed, I spent my weekend going between writing the final chapters (yes, that's right – _they're actually finished_) and doing stuff in the Adirondacks. Blame nature for the inspiration. Oh, and of course cbrstrshp – the fact that you reviewed spurned me forward, so thank you. Without further ado…**

A few months passed and they still had little to no leads as to where the mother and daughter duo had disappeared to. The entirety of Storybrooke, both inside the town and the surrounding forest, had been searched thoroughly, providing them with no additional information. Gold also kept a low profile, avoiding nearly everyone; they could tell he was still in town, but only glances of the man alerted them to the fact. Abby found this increasingly more frustrating – her interactions with Hook (she _still _refused to call him Killian, though he insisted she should) were confusing, contradictory and congenial, much to her chagrin. Determination to find Gold and force him into providing her the required answers to her bafflement quickly became the center of her focus. It quickly became her personal mission to uncover the sorcerer's whereabouts and interrogate the man until she gained what she desired.

She refused to admit how much she enjoyed having Hook around. After that first night, they met every evening to read, moving from Othello to other Shakespeare plays she loved and turning to various novels once they grew bored of the Bard. The group at large decided weeks ago to allow the pirate free reign in the town, under the condition that he stay out of mischief. He soon enthusiastically joined in the search for Cora and Regina, though he could only provide so much information from his cooperation with her. She had approached him long before with the idea of seeking out their location; he'd agreed, though he doubted his presence would do any good. She merely kept him close by, working on some sort of project that she kept highly secretive. When she sensed the time was right, she cast a spell he didn't recognize and they'd arrived. Once there, his use to her was concluded, and he was forced into Abby's care.

Not that he seemed to overly mind the alteration in his situation. For the first time in his life, Hook felt content. Abby made him happy, more so than even Milah; she was frustrating, bossy, conceited at times, and infuriating. At the same time, she was brilliant – wise beyond her years, devoted to her people, considerate and calculating in her words and deeds. He loathed admitting it, but he'd grown to admire the young queen he once held prisoner.

He was right when he'd claimed she would make an amazing ruler, back in the fortnight they shared on his ship. He began accompanying her when she went about her duties, watching in amusement and wonder as she cared for her people. Her dedication to them was strong; she did not exaggerate when she claimed she would do anything in her power to protect them. The question of why, however, was one he almost constantly considered, and it was not until much later that he had the chance to inquire why.

The two sat side by side in her majestic bed, the well-used hardcover book resting between them. Abby read, absorbed in the story and ignorant of Hook's contemplative disinterest.

"'The news changed me, and I've been thinking and buzzing for hours,'" she read smoothly, her voice steady. "'Though the only light I have is a candle and even wrapped up in my blanket my bones are cold like stones, I'm filled with a kind of wonder, I guess. A wonder that burns. If Gal's family is alive and found her, if her impossible wish came true, what else can happen? It makes me almost believe that everything works out somehow, and even if the best possible ending for all of this is for me to speedily join my mama in the Realm of the Ancestors, then so be it. That is an ending to be proud of.'" *

"Why are your people so important to you?" he asked abruptly, successfully cutting her off. Her brows furrowed in annoyance at his interruption, but she marked the page, reluctantly setting the book aside to consider.

"They're all I've got," she said quietly, tracing the raised letters of the title with a finger and refusing to make eye contact. "I don't recall my real family – they died long before I could form any memories of them. When I became queen, my people became my family. They're my responsibility, the reason for me to wake each day…without them, I am purposeless. I may not know each of them personally, but I know they depend upon me – my choices, my judgments affect each of them, whether I notice or not. Through them, I feel complete; my skills are put to good use for a change, and I wish to do well, for them. I've never had reason to be good before them." Finally her gaze rose to his, brown eyes thoughtful. "And you were right, you prick. When you said I'd make an adequate ruler. 'Detached yet engaged, sympathetic yet separate' – your exact words, I believe. Little did I know how true that conversation would be."**

"And still I stand by all I said," he replied with a smirk, taking the book from her and flipping absentmindedly through the pages. "Is that why we're reading this particular story? The commoner who becomes nobility and all that?"

She snatched it from his hands, gripping it close. "Weren't you paying _any _attention? She's being put to death – what makes you think she'll become royalty?"

Rolling his eyes, he smiled down at her, rather more fondly than he originally intended. "I've read enough novels with _you_, Taylor, to know how this will conclude. The only unpleasant endings we've experienced thus far have been the numerous tragedies I've been forced to participate in. I know you well enough by now to realize where this is going."

To his surprise, she didn't shy away from his smile. Rather, she responded with one of her own, giving him a sheepish shrug. "I cannot deny that logic – and yes, it does end well. We'll still be finishing it, however. I love _Book of a Thousand Days_; it illustrates that anyone can be great, and love goes against our wishes no matter how much we fight it." Realizing her words, she straightened and cleared her throat. "Ah…perhaps that's enough for tonight. We can finish tomorrow. It's not like you were listening anyway."

With an exasperated sigh, he yanked the book from her grasp, searching the pages for the last scene he remembered. Handing it back to her, he pointed at the page. "Oh no you don't, Your Majesty. Continue. We're too close to the end to stop now."

Raising a brow, she smirked slightly and pulled the novel toward her, gradually carrying on reading. Once more she became immersed in the familiar story, her slightly alto voice filling the silence. Slowly, as her focus became centered on the pages resting in her lap, she readjusted her position, attempting to find a more comfortable situation. Hook felt his breath catch as, without any consciousness of making such a motion, she leaned toward him, her head coming to sit comfortably on his shoulder. They lay that way as the story came to its conclusion, far sooner than he wished and without him having paid attention to any of her words after her subtle movements. Instead, he chose to relish the moment, enjoying the light pressure of her weight, the soft feel of her hair, the subtly fruity smell of her skin. He was done fighting it – he fancied her, possibly loved her, and didn't care whether it was the curse's fault or not.

She sighed, more from contentment than her typical exasperation, and closed the book, tossing it on to her side table. When Hook glanced down at her, he noticed her eyes were closed, a somewhat thoughtful expression on her angled face. Without thinking, he tucked a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear, brushing it away from its spot haphazardly across her forehead. Rather than pulling away as he expected, she sighed once more, wriggling herself closer. Nearly afraid to even breathe, he finally convinced himself to speak.

"What's the matter?" he asked softly, his words causing her locks to dance as his words rustled the strands. She frowned but did not look up at him.

"I have a bittersweet relationship with book endings. While there is nothing quite as satisfying as reaching a story's finale, it's disappointing knowing that there isn't more. I often find myself wondering what happened after, how events played out…where the characters went from there."

"Just because the story's over doesn't mean there isn't more," he agreed, adjusting himself slightly to make her more relaxed. "But perhaps we aren't meant to know the rest. It may be more beneficial to continue it on our own."

She huffed, crossing her arms in familiar annoyance. "What if I don't _want _to guess the rest? What if it's easier simply to be _told_?" Her cinnamon gaze finally rose to meet his, uncertainty in their depths. "What if I can't find the proper answer for what I need?"

"Perhaps you aren't meant to," he whispered, and for a moment they simply stared at one another. With a jolt that nearly knocked him from the bed, she bolted upright, facing away from him.

"I'm sorry," she said loudly, clearing her throat once again. "For…ah…all of that. Thinking into it all a bit too much, as usual. But we really ought to be going to bed."

Realizing the moment had passed, Hook stood, sending her a hushed good night as he left. Abby fell back into the pillows, mind reeling, as she attempted to piece together what had just occurred.

The next day found her at Gold's elegant little shop, prepared to decimate the entire building in her quest to uncover its owner. Ignoring the blatant closed sign, she wrenched the door open, her force dwindling slightly in effectiveness at the merry tinkling of the announcing bell. She sent the empty room a dark glare before marching forward, leaning against the counter to search as far back as she could.

"Gold!" she barked into the quiet, authority from years as a queen drenching her words. "I know you're here, sorcerer! I'll not have you hiding from me any longer! Gold! RUMPLESTILTSKIN!

"I heard you the first time, lass, there's no need to yell." She finally caught the sound of his familiar cane tapping against the floor as he approached, coming to lean casually on the opposite side of her chosen counter. He appeared unaffected by her enthusiastic irritation, crossing his wrists across the top of his stick as he leveled his eyes on hers. "What can I do for you, Your Majesty?"

"What can you…you are one of the single most _infuriating _individuals I have ever been forced to encounter! And I've been dealing with _Hook_ on a _daily basis_! I _demand_ you tell me what you've done to me!"

Blinking slowly, he replied, "Refresh my memory for me, dearie – what _exactly _have I done?"

"The curse!" she cried, fists clenching in a worthless attempt to halt their shaking. "The sleeping curse you placed on Killian! I demand to know how to make it stop!"

A slight smirk came to his face as he leaned into the counter. "Hook was under a sleeping curse? Fascinating – "

"Please do not play ignorant with me, Gold," she sighed, tone abruptly wearied as she pulled a hand roughly through her hair. "Please. I don't know if I can do all of this any longer. It's running me completely ragged."

"You cannot possibly mean you've fallen in love with the pirate," he muttered incredulously, letting out a stunned laugh as the question morphed into a statement. When she didn't respond, his amusement shifted to amazement, causing his body to lean forward even farther across the counter. "Good God, it's true. I wouldn't think it possible. The Seventh Warrior, fallen prey to – "

She clenched her eyes shut, rubbing a hand forcefully against her forehead. "Gold. Please, enough. Just…fix what you've done. I know we've had our troubles in the past – not to mention your issues with Killian – but surely we've both suffered enough. I just want to be myself again."

Silence fell as he studied her with great interest. Finally, he shook his head, a hint of a smirk at his lips. "I will begin by stating flatly that it was not I who set this curse. Do not interrupt me!" he chastised, just as Abby opened her mouth to protest. "I assure you that, while I would indeed love to take credit for such a marvelous plot, I cannot. It is Hook, after all, who is the one obsessed with revenge, not I." He paused to march around the counter and rest at her side. "I bare no ill will towards you, Mistress Tailor; even I must admit that you won quite clearly, albeit unjustly. In fact, I find you most clever, and would prefer not to discover myself on your less pleasant side. So no, I cannot take back the curse, because I am not the one who set it."

Abby's shoulders sunk in a mixture of defeat and frustration. "I was so sure it was you…and the pairing…neither of us is a friend of yours, so I assumed…"

"Additionally," he continued, halting her stammering, "no matter the caster, the spell does the pairing. There is no way to control who it chooses - _none_. You awoke Hook because of the same reason David awoke Mary Margaret."

Freezing in place, Abby's mind turned blank. She attempted to sift through his words in order to understand them more fully, but each trial led to the same awful conclusion: Killian Jones Hook truly was her love. The magic successfully manipulated her, altering her from the defiant single woman who stood on her own to a girl unable to feel or think right without a man at her side. The revelation was crushing, and she heard herself groan deeply as her face lowered into her outstretched palms.

"It's not from the spell, you know," Gold stated matter-of-factly when she didn't speak again. "The way the magic works – it doesn't force love into the individuals' hearts in order to reach completion. It purposefully seeks out the one: the only person the cursed can love. In a way, it's rather handy – it brings you your one true love without all of the tedious work of searching. You'd find each other eventually, ideally, but this speeds along the process significantly."

"Hold on," Abby squealed, gripping the counter tightly. "It only _finds_? Not…not _creates_?"

"No spell can create love, Abigail."

Processing his words slowly, she eventually lurched for the door. "I need Killian," she muttered as the bell tinkled once more, leaving Gold alone in the shop. The man chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back into the building's depths.

"Calling him Killian thrice," he observed with a slight smirk. "As good a sign as any, I suppose."

*** This quote comes from one of my all-time _favorite_ novels ever, _Book of a Thousand Days_ by Shannon Hale. It's loosely based off the Grimm fairy tale Jungfrau Maleen, and is just _wonderful_. It's written in journal form, which is a favorite technique of mine, plus Dashti, the main character, is an awesomely complex and diverse character. I really cannot express how much I adore that novel. And admit that I cannot take credit for writing it, although I share a first name and initials with its actual author. (P.S. seriously, go read this story. Then read _The Goose Girl_. Then _Austenland_. Then repeat the process.)**


	9. Chapter 9

9 – "I suppose it's like the ticking crocodile, isn't it? Time is chasing after all of us."

**I wonder how many times I can apologize for delaying this before I'm actually finished with the story. We're up to, what? Twice? You all probably deserve more. I'm terrible if I don't have a deadline. However, I have an awesome Sherlock story I desperately want to start working on, but have vowed that I shall go no further until Here and There is complete. So good news for you lot. Anywho, this is the second to last chapter and it's got ALL the action! I won't bore you with excessive commentary to make up for the long wait with this, so here ya go!**

Making her way back through Storybrooke, Abby hardly noticed anything beyond her highly focused goal of returning home and speaking with her pirate. She hadn't any idea what she would say, or if there were even words to express properly what she'd just discovered, but she felt adamant that _something _needed to be done, as quickly as humanly possible. Her nearly frenzied travels were abruptly interrupted by Emma, however, not long after she vacated Gold's shop.

"Abby, we've found Cora and Regina; we need you at Granny's now!" the sheriff hollered as she rushed toward her. Abby purposefully ignored her friend and continued on, pausing only when Emma forcibly blocked her path. She huffed out a sigh in frustration and made to slide past.

"It can wait – I need to find Killian," she stated as Emma firmly grasped her arm, eyes concentrated on the road leading to her home rather than on her companion's anxious expression. "I'll fetch him and meet you there!"

"He's already there – Cora has him!"

Emma's latest statement finally seemed to beat through the singularly focused fog to penetrate her concentration. Abby shook herself harshly and narrowed her gaze at Emma, her expression swiftly turning determined. She cast one last glance down the road leading to her home before spinning back to face the woman. "Let's go, then," she demanded, and the two shifted direction, heading towards the diner and inn. A by now familiar group of individuals, this time including an eager Henry, anxiously awaited them.

"There you are, Abby," David nearly sighed before efficiently bringing everyone to order. He purposefully made eye contact with each person present before beginning, ensuring everyone's focus was centered on his words. "Leroy and his crew found what appears to be a hidden passageway in the mines, leading toward the cemetery. We're guessing Cora and Regina have been using it to sneak in and out of town."

"Do we have any proof beyond vague conjectures?" Abby demanded immediately, tightly crossing her arms over her chest. "And why are we only discovering this passageway now? I was told they've been _found_, not that we had some general idea of where they _could_ be."

"Relax, _Taylor_, we wouldn't disturb you without reason," Leroy shot back at her. The two exchanged heated glares biting enough to weaken the knees of any invading army, halting only when Mary Margaret stepped between them.

"Enough, from both of you," she ordered, head darting from one to the other and back again. "The passage only appears when it's in use – one of the creators of it must be inside for it to be obvious to anyone else, which is why we're only learning about it now. The dwarves were working the mines when they heard Cora and Hook going through not long ago."

"And no one thought to follow?" Abby shot back, attempting to stifle the unreasonably rising panic that came from the news. She couldn't tell from Mary Margaret's tone whether the pirate's participation was voluntary or otherwise, leaving her particularly uneasy. "They could be anywhere at this point!"

"Abby, either calm yourself or we will be forced to lock you away until you are!" David interrupted, eying her with a mixture of irritation and incredulity. She gave a shaky sigh and nodded once, her jaw solidly set. Shooting her a final uncertain glance, he continued, "By the time anyone reached it, the entrance was blocked. We have the area guarded if they try to get back out that way, but plan on staking a direct attack on her mausoleum. It's been searched before, obviously, but we may have better luck finding them now that we have a better grasp of the situation as well as a decent idea that's where they're hiding."

"Should we ask Gold to come as well?" Emma inquired, thumbs hooked in her belt loops and a finger absentmindedly stroking the barrel of her gun. Her father frowned slightly but nodded.

"It would probably be best," he grudgingly agreed. "Everyone should collect whatever they feel they might need – remember who we're dealing with here – and meet outside the cemetery in half an hour. I'll go speak with Gold." They began to disperse, but he looped a hand around Abby's elbow before she went far, blue gaze scurrying over her face with concern. "Do not try to face them alone, please, Abby. I know you're concerned about Hook – "

"I am _valiant_, David, not _stupid_," she interjected, wrenching her arm easily from his grasp. "I'll follow your demands, but only because they are sound." With that, she once again made for her home.

Unsurprisingly, Abby was the first to arrive at their appointed location, various daggers strategically placed about her person and SEVEN AT ONE BLOW prominent at her midsection. She'd opted for a more traditional outfit, trading jeans for light breeches, sweater for one of her specifically tailored jackets, and flats for sturdy leather boots. One such boot tapped anxiously in the dirt, the only outward indication of her unsettled mental state. Signs of Killian littered her house when she arrived – books scattered about his favorite armchair, a blanket laid out beneath his usual place in her backyard, a dirty teacup resting in the sink. Most unnervingly, however, was what she found in her room when she went to change. At the foot of her bed rested his hook, obviously freshly polished from the shocking glint of the metal, and a note containing a single letter – C. The sight both reassured and terrified her; while it very nearly proved Killian did not go with Cora willingly, it meant that he'd been taken by force instead. Neither option had been particularly promising, but the thought of Killian in trouble caused her chest to clench unnaturally.

She debated silently with herself the entire walk to the cemetery's iron gates. Killian was more than capable of taking care of himself – he typically had a weapon literally fixed into his _arm_, for heaven's sake – but against the combined magical force of Cora and Regina, he neared powerless. She couldn't help but blame herself for the way the situation played out; she'd left him alone, without even a meager ward to halt any unwelcome visitors from passing through her door, while confronting Gold. It wasn't as though she could have taken him along (particularly given the knowledge she'd gained), but regardless she blamed herself heartily. Until he was found, there was little else she could do.

Emma arrived not long after Abby resorted to pacing to relieve her pent up tension. Realizing that the action was necessary for her to remain relatively composed, Emma merely stood by, a mildly concerned expression on her face. The others soon followed, congregating around David and a stoic Gold.

Pulling out the hook and note from one of her jacket's various pockets, she offered them to the assembled crowd for inspection. "I found these when I left to prepare. I think we can assume Killian did not go willingly."

"I thought Cora was done with Hook?" Mary Margaret mused as she glanced at the solitary sprawling shape across the piece of paper. "She said as much when they both arrived."

"Apparently not," David replied, whirling back on the rest. "Right, we'll all need to be on our guard. Leroy, let's have you and the rest of the dwarves on lookout. The less going in to overwhelm them, the better chance we have at getting out of this without bloodshed. Abby, it may be best if – "

"Do not even suggest it, Nolan," Abby growled, clasping the dagger at her hip threateningly. "There's no way in hell I'll stand off to the side like some pathetic maiden while Killian's in trouble."

"What happened between you two anyway?" Emma asked, attempting to mask her excitement behind a sheet of general curiosity. "And when did you start calling him Killian?"

"Since she learned he's her true love," Gold interjected matter-of-factly, drawing out a muted gasp from most around them. Emma's grin broadened as Abby rested her hands at her waist, scowling stonily at the man.

"By all means, Gold, share all of my personal information with half the bloody town," she grumbled sullenly. "Care to reveal the back story as well? Get it all out there for everyone to titter about?"

"Nothing for me to titter except 'I told you so,'" Emma remarked with a smug smile, earning herself a sharp shove from Abby. Before Emma could do more than chuckle, David halted them with a raised hand.

"While I am fascinated to learn more about this apparently recent infatuation, we've more pressing business to attend to." His focus centered on Abby, studying her with a troubled intensity. "I won't force you to stay out, Abby, but if it's between defeating Cora and Regina and rescuing Hook, you know which I'll choose. I have to do what's best for everyone."

She gave him a single curt nod. "I understand. You lot take care of them; I'll get Killian." Before she could continue, however, an odd tingling began in her fingertips, quickly spreading throughout her body. It felt more unpleasant than painful, as though she were being forcibly summoned in a very specific direction, and started just below her navel before spreading hastily to her extremities. The others noted her pause, watching as she gradually spun to face the general direction of their destination. As she took a step forward, the sensation amplified, causing her brow to furrow in perplexity. Gold, however, appeared to comprehend what was occurring.

"A tracking spell, I assume," he said, stepping forward to wave a hand just above her skin. A faint, misty fog the same shade as her eyes floated from her lazily. "No sign of who's placed it, but given our current situation, it seems rather obvious. We certainly have the element of surprise on our hands, then."

"Let's go, quickly, before they have more time to prepare," David declared, leading them silently forward. The dwarves spanned out into the graveyard, surrounding the mausoleum in a tight ring of focused warriors. Abby followed close behind the prince, the tingling progressing into a sharp prickling the farther they went. By the time they reached its impressively looming entrance, the awareness was nearly unbearable.

"A bit uncomfortable, are we?" Gold muttered close to her ear, humor laced in each syllable. Forcing herself not to physically attack the man for his cheek, she clenched her jaw and merely nodded. He chuckled lowly and continued, "Once we enter, it should subdue. Follow the pulling sensation, deep within your chest, and it will lead you to him."

He silently magiced the door open, instantly tempering the pain to a more manageable level. Just as predicted, a commanding sensitivity centered in her midsection guided her forward. She cautiously stalked forward as she whispered back at Gold. "Him?"

"Hook. Cora's using your connection to bring you to him. In order for a tracking spell to work, there must be a link, some reason for one individual to seek out another. Your recent revelation should make this reasoning obvious."

The group continued down the hallway almost silently, Abby taking over at the front and following the spell like an enchanted bloodhound. Eventually, they rounded a bend and heard voices talking quietly.

"We've a half hour, forty-five minutes at most, before she should arrive," Regina stated, the sounds of a chair scraping across the floor in the room beyond echoing back at them. "Might as well make yourself comfortable, Captain."

"I'll stand, thanks very much," came his stinted reply, followed by scuffling and grunts that could only signify his being forced into the seat. Carefully removing one of her daggers, Abby inched ahead, the others close behind.

"There now, isn't that better?" Cora crooned, her heels clicking dully on the floor. "No need to be so obstinate."

"What do you plan to do to her?" he demanded, his heavily veiled desperation and fear clear to Abby's ears. She swallowed once and adjusted her weapon's grip, motioning the others to flank the nearly closed door that hid the trio.

"You'll see soon enough, pirate, never fear," Regina answered, her smirk conveyed easily through her words.

"Oh come, daughter, we mustn't let him miss out on _all_ of the fun," Cora scolded playfully, footsteps reverberating down the narrow corridor as she paced the room's length. "Shall we give him a small taste?"

All she needed was the subtle wince of pain from Hook to convince Abby to throw open the door, a second dagger now bared in her free hand. Her minor army followed, only slightly delayed, and brandished their weapons as well. Hook sat tied to a chair opposite, face slightly contorted as he shivered once. Abby efficiently ignored the stunned expressions of Cora and Regina as she rushed to his side.

"Killian," she muttered, relief flooding her senses when his bright eyes opened in surprise. They battled between reassurance and fear as he leaned toward her automatically.

"Abby," he whispered, an almost smile gracing his lips. "You came."

"Of course I came, you idiot," she replied with a smirk, cutting through his bindings easily. "Couldn't bloody well _not _with that blasted tracking spell tugging away at me. Besides, rescuing you appears to be my purpose in life."

"Don't remind me," he groaned as he stood, pulling her into a fierce hug.

"As charming a picture the two of you make, we've business to attend to," Gold called out to them, causing both to twist about. Regina stood before David and Mary Margaret, while he and Emma stood before Cora. Reaching for the loop in her belt that securely held his hook, Abby smirked up at the captain and handed it over.

"Looking for this?" she inquired, savoring his appreciative grin.

"My hero," he remarked with a roll of his eyes as he efficiently reattached it, leading her toward the tense group and taking his place facing his abductors. Cora and Regina, meanwhile, wore matching scowls of fury.

"Give up now, the both of you, before any serious damage is done," David demanded, sword at the ready.

Grimace reverting to a grim sneer, Cora shook her head. "We bare no ill will with you, Charming, nor any of your people. We simply want the Warrior and her pirate."

Abby sensed more than saw said pirate shifting his stance so that his body more firmly blocked her from the mother and daughter pair. "I've told you before, Cora, you'll not have her. I'd give my life first."

"As pleasant a thought as that is, I'm afraid it goes entirely against our plan," she responded, casually waving a hand and trapping the two in a shimmering invisible shield. Without much conscious thought, Abby reached out for Killian's only hand, gripping it fiercely in her sweaty palm. His responding squeeze was as strong as her own. The moment the spell was cast, the others burst into action, lunging forward with weapons and magic. As they battled their respective partners, Abby turned solemnly to her companion.

"This is entirely my fault," she stated with certainty, lips contorted in a frown. "If I hadn't gone to Gold…"

"Why did you visit the Crocodile?" he inquired, softly brushing her arm with the cool edge of his hook. Sighing, she leaned her head into his shoulder and began her explanation, concluding with her arrival to stage his escape. He remained silent throughout her narrative, listening and observing the fight thoughtfully.

"You love me, then," he outright stated, no hint of uncertainty behind the words.

Lifting her head, she scowled up at him. "All that and the only thing you get out of it is that I love you?"

He chuckled and beamed, placing a soft kiss to her temple. "It's the only thing that mattered." Outside their shell of safety came a dull vibration as everyone present stumbled, caught by the magic one of them summoned. The next moment, all but Cora were blown backwards, Abby and Hook stumbling particularly badly against the sides of their confine. She stalked forward, raising a hand to jerk the two to their feet, and glared triumphantly at them.

"You people never learn," she declared, breaking the shield to face them directly. "I am not one to toy with, particularly when you stand between myself and my goal. From the moment I slipped Hook that spell, you've both been mine…and it is time to stop fighting."

"Couldn't agree more," Abby replied, and shot out a single, highly concentrated spell. She watched Cora shoot backwards against the opposite wall before the abrupt release of excessive power sent her into darkness.


End file.
